


whisper (a dangerous secret)

by LizMikaelson, saltziepark



Category: Legacies (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, They're In Love Your Honor, and then we're going to blow that up, but they just don't know it yet, dont worry, featuring bartender hope mikaelson, how are we doing pizzie nation, maybe lizzie knows, penelope peony park, penelope pizza park, rivals to fake dating to lovers, the law firm au that no one asked for all rolled into a fake dating trope, this is probably going to be a mess but you know let's roll with it, this starts with jandon, we resurrected the blue convertible because we had to, you can trust us
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:15:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26730493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizMikaelson/pseuds/LizMikaelson, https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltziepark/pseuds/saltziepark
Summary: Lizzie Saltzman has seen enough of Mystic Falls to last her three lifetimes and after her mom and Bonnie Bennett found a loophole for the Merge, she buried herself in school and escaped to Los Angeles. A wedding between her mom and Bonnie requires a weeklong visit home and Lizzie can't bring herself to go alone.Enter Penelope Park, a gorgeous colleague who agrees to pose as Lizzie's girlfriend in hopes of finally securing the promotion that she and Lizzie have been fighting over for years.orthe rivals to fake dating to lovers law firm au
Relationships: Bonnie Bennett & Caroline Forbes, Hope Mikaelson & Josie Saltzman, Hope Mikaelson/Josie Saltzman, Penelope Park & Lizzie Saltzman, Penelope Park/Lizzie Saltzman
Comments: 99
Kudos: 189





	1. Chapter 1

Lizzie glances away from her computer screen, the lines of the deposition blurring as her phone lights up next to her. 

“Sister, to what do I owe the pleasure at —” Lizzie trails off, spinning in her chair to look at the wall of televisions next to her, with clocks showing various time zones from Los Angeles to Beijing. “Seven in the evening on a Thursday? Shouldn’t the pigeon be boring you with his mundane day over burnt tofu and veggies?” 

Josie’s wry laughter fills her ears and Lizzie smiles despite herself, reaching up to run a hand through her hair. It had only been a few months since she had seen her sister and her sister’s horrendous choice for a partner, Landon Kirby, but glancing out at the bustling streets of L.A. that were visible from her office, it feels like a lifetime ago. 

After everything they had been through with Malivore, the perils of college and law school, and then the loophole that her mom and Bonnie had been able to find to stop the Merge, Lizzie had seen enough of Virginia to last her three lifetimes. But there was something to be said for the power of space and miles between her past and the future that she was building. And despite everything, Josie was her twin — the other part of her soul and the three thousand miles between them ached at the most random of times.

Including now. Because she knows why Josie is calling. She's been dreading it. 

“When’s your flight, Lizzie?” Josie asks breezily as if this isn’t the whole reason for her to be calling. After figuring out the Merge and saving Josie and Lizzie’s lives, Caroline and Bonnie had finally, well, realized that all of their time spent together when they were younger had always been leading to something _more,_ and were getting married in a week’s time. Josie and Lizzie are two of Caroline’s bridesmaids, of course, and Lizzie already had a flight booked for the next evening. 

She tells Josie as much. “I sent you my itinerary days ago, Jo. And I’ve already booked a car from Dulles to take me to the hotel. No, I’m not staying at Mom’s place,” she explains quickly. 

“Why not? You always stay at Mom’s place,” Josie says skeptically, and Lizzie knows that Josie’s eyebrow is raised. 

“I would rather not have to share a restroom with poultry, thank you very much. Salmonella, you know,” she adds, just to annoy Josie even more. She can’t stand Landon, there’s no need to sugarcoat it. Her sister could do so much better. 

“You don’t even have a date, Lizzie, so what’s the big deal?” 

“I totally have a date,” Lizzie spits into the phone, as she spins in her chair back to her computer, eyes moving from the computer screen toward Penelope’s office across the way. She’s chatting with someone from operations and the woman is perched on Penelope’s desk, swinging her legs with her hand at her throat. Penelope’s shirt is unbuttoned far too low to be professional and Lizzie nearly breaks the pencil before she remembers she’s on the phone with Josie.

“You haven’t met her yet,” Lizzie adds quickly, eyes narrowing before she spins in her chair when she notices Penelope glance her way. “She’s — it’s — it’s new.” 

“You’ve never dated a girl before, Lizzie,” Josie reminds her and Lizzie chews on her thumbnail. She needs a manicure before the stupid rehearsal dinner anyway, so what’s the harm in giving into a nervous habit? 

“So? I’m not limited by society’s constraints. And you sound like Dad. Speaking of which, he isn’t invited, is he?” 

Josie sighs into the phone and Lizzie knows that she’s clutching the bridge of her nose. “No, he’s not invited. Mom didn’t — after everything, he thinks that he should give her and Bonnie her space. Anyway, tell me about this girl. She must be something for you to bring her home to the lion’s den.” 

Where should she start with Penelope Park? 

“She works at my firm. I’ve told you about her before. Dark hair, dark eyes —”

“Is this the other lawyer that you claimed to have sold her soul to Satan to pass the bar exam?” Lizzie groans to herself, eyes firmly on Penelope who was leaning over the other woman, her hand hovering near her knee. 

“I _might_ have said something like that when we first met, but I think her and I have turned a corner.” A lie, the biggest that had come out of Lizzie’s mouth this afternoon and she had been in a meeting earlier telling the man who had swindled his colleagues out of millions in a pyramid scheme that he wasn’t going to get anything more than a slap on the wrist. “I think we just had to get it all out of our systems —” Lizzie starts to say before Josie cuts her off. 

“Ew, no! I definitely don’t need to hear it, Lizzie. I’m just — surprised is all, I guess.” Lizzie was surprised too, mostly at herself. While she and Penelope had never been exactly friendly, there was always something simmering between the surface with them. Lizzie’s convinced that it’s just rage and a healthy dose of sexual attraction, but there was more than meets the eye with Penelope Park. They had worked together for a few years now and apart from various bits of small talk here and there, they had never gotten to know each other, despite frequent run-ins at bars and restaurants and all of the office holiday parties.

Penelope is, by all accounts, normal. Smoking hot and looked fantastic in a pencil skirt, but definitely normal. She seemed to enjoy her alcohol and Lizzie had seen her more than once with gorgeous men (and women) on her arm, but she was just a normal twenty-five year old, more or less fresh out of law school, woman. Human. Shit, she was going to have to make sure that no one did anything overtly magical at the wedding. And now all she had to do was convince Satan’s mistress to play her pretend girlfriend for a weeklong stay in Mystic Falls. Fuck, she hadn’t thought through that part yet. 

In her office, Penelope takes a step backward from the woman and Lizzie’s eyes slide over her legs. Fuck, she definitely hadn’t thought this through. 

“I gotta — I need to finish some stuff up, Jo. I’ll see you Saturday. Yeah, yeah, I love you too,” Lizzie tosses her phone on her desk and turns back to her computer, heads massaging at her temples. She sees the woman leave Penelope’s office and the brunette smiles and winks at her before dropping into her chair, her face hidden behind her computer screen. Lizzie works for four more hours, going through each document with painstaking attention to detail, the sun dipping low behind the horizon. 

Penelope’s office is dark by the time she looks up and that’s just as well. Lizzie had been delaying the inevitable — the inevitable no from Penelope, the inevitable pity from Josie when she showed up alone as usual. Grabbing her coat and sweeping it over her shoulders as she bends down to grip her briefcase, Lizzie leaves her office, her heels silent in the darkened corridor. 

Ten minutes later, she finds herself at a bar just down the street from the law firm. She chooses a stool in the corner and orders a whiskey, scrolling lazily through her phone on the various dating sites that Josie had set up for her the last time she had been home. 

“You know, most people have the sense to do that in the privacy of their own homes,” a voice over her shoulder says with a laugh. Penelope Park slides onto the stool next to her, her skirt high on her thighs. Lizzie glances down and tears her eyes away from Penelope’s legs before she makes eye contact with the brunette who smirks with delight, sipping on a glass of red wine. 

“Maybe I just needed an excuse so that skeevy men didn’t think they could approach me,” Lizzie replies, taking a sip of her whiskey. It burned down the back of her throat and did nothing to calm her racing heart.

“What about women?” Penelope asks pointedly.

“What about them?” 

“Well, from the looks of it, your matches aren’t limited by gender, so what’s stopping a woman from approaching you?” Penelope’s eyes move lazily over the crowd around them — all business professionals around their age unwinding after a long day. The same suits, the same haircuts, the same cologne. So much sameness. 

“Is that what you’re doing, Park? Approaching me?” This line of questioning was dangerous because she had never — they’ve never spoken to each other like this. It was always barbed threats and thinly-veiled insults as they tried to one-up each other at work. But this, flirting and innuendo was lacing every word that dripped from Penelope’s lips and Lizzie wanted to drink it up. 

“You wish you could be so lucky,” Penelope says, her eyes finding their way back to Lizzie. Lizzie wishes she could say that being looked at by Penelope elicited nothing within her, but she knew she’d be lying. “No, you looked lonely and I was bored.” 

“How kind of you,” Lizzie levels back, finishing her drink and gesturing to the bartender for another. Lizzie sighs deeply, biting her lip before she says quickly, “I told a white lie today to my sister — well, a rather large lie, completely harmless though —” Lizzie pauses, because she has never spoken to Penelope about anything of substance. Never about her family, about home, but something in the way Penelope was looking at her, her mouth open and her eyes warm, made Lizzie want to spill all of her secrets. “And I was just trying to see if I could rectify my mistakes before tomorrow evening.” 

“Did you kill someone?” Penelope teases. 

“Even if I had, I’m not sure you would be my first choice for someone to help me bury the body, Park,” Lizzie replies. 

“Just as well — I’d sell you out to the partners in a heartbeat if it meant that they promoted me over you,” Penelope says honestly. “So, what was the lie?” 

Fuck, this was the hard part. “My mom is getting married next week and I’m flying home tomorrow night. My sister — my twin, actually, fraternal — she’s had this ass of a boyfriend for years even though I’ve never met two people less suited for each other and I might have told her that I was bringing home a date.” 

“But you’re actually dateless. How sad for you,” Penelope smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “So you’re trolling dating sites hoping to find some unsuspecting girl or guy to sell to your family that you’re in a happy relationship? God, your life is dull.” 

Lizzie clenches her jaw, resolving at that moment to head home, get a good night’s rest, and handle this bullshit in the morning. No one, not even Penelope Park, had the right to make her feel so small. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow, Penelope.” She rises to leave, reaching into her purse to pull out a few twenties for her drinks when a hand on her arm stops her. She can feel the heat from Penelope’s hand even through the material of her blouse and as she looks up, her blue eyes meet Penelope’s green ones and she nearly stumbles with the force of Penelope’s gaze. Penelope’s hold is firm and she feels her thumb rubbing circles into her arm.

“You’re not going to ask me?” Penelope questions softly. 

“What did you say?” 

“It’s obvious, right — you need someone to sell this relationship and I probably know you better than anyone on there,” Penelope gestures to Lizzie’s phone with her free hand, her other still hasn’t left Lizzie’s arm and the touch _burns_ now. 

“You don’t like me,” Lizzie says slowly, making no movement to sit down or leave. 

“And you don’t like me either, but we’re both adults and we both lie for a living. How hard can it be?” Lizzie does sit down at that, grabbing the tumbler of whiskey that she had abandoned as Penelope turns her body more fully towards her on the stool. 

“What’s in it for you, Penelope?” Lizzie takes a sip of the whiskey but she feels it settle low in her stomach like a weight. 

“Call it my one good deed for the year,” Penelope says breezily, but Lizzie can tell she is lying. “I help you and you help me get ahead at work. We both know that you’re Dorian’s favorite. I want in on your next big case. You scratch my back, and I’ll leave marks up and down yours, darling.” 

Penelope’s words absolutely don’t send shivers up and down her spine, exactly where she knew Penelope would sink her claws in.

They move from the bar to one of the many tables for dinner, as Lizzie books a first-class ticket for Penelope and Penelope rattles off an email to one of the partners about a family illness that requires her to take leave for a week. Penelope orders a three-course meal for them and Lizzie is too busy savoring the taste of the lobster bisque to fight the fact that she wasn’t asked once what she wanted to eat. Or the fact that she would no doubt be footing the bill.

It’s surprisingly easy, Lizzie thinks, creating this relationship out of thin air. She tells Penelope about Josie and her mom and Bonnie, leaving out the messy details about a ritual designed to pit one twin against another where only one could survive to lead the Gemini Coven. Lizzie isn’t sure Penelope would believe her anyway. Who would? Besides, there’s no reason to introduce Penelope into the world of the supernatural for just one weeklong trip. 

And it’s not like Lizzie is much of a witch, these days. She wears an amulet with a little power to siphon from, sure. But apart from that, she’s cut herself off from all sources of magic. The upside of being a siphoner. As long as she stays away from magic, she can keep it out of her life. Josie doesn’t understand, but she’s let it go. After everything that’s happened, Lizzie’s perfectly happy spending her life being a lawyer and not one of the last two remaining members of the Gemini Coven. 

Penelope’s an attentive listener and she asks questions at all the right points, and before long, Lizzie’s told her almost everything. Everything she needs to know, at least. 

Figuring out a backstory for them is just as easy — they do work in the same firm, after all, and going from rivals to friends to lovers while they were spending their nights working over cases together absolutely sounds believable. For a split second, Lizzie wonders why that never actually — because they’re not friends or lovers. They’re rivals at best and Penelope is doing her a favor she’s bound to collect on later. 

Lizzie might do the same thing in her position. It’s smart. They’re both in line to make junior partner. If Lizzie owes her for this, it might be just the advantage Penelope needs. It’s worth it though, Lizzie thinks. She loves her job and she loves being the best at it, which she absolutely is. But showing up alone at home as the broken, single Lizzie who can’t even get a date for her own mom’s wedding with the pitying glances and the intrusive questions, that would be worse than Penelope making junior partner first. 

Penelope orders them whiskey after dinner and tells Lizzie the kind of things about her life that a girlfriend should know. She grew up in California just minutes from the beach but loved camping trips that her family would take to the mountains. She has an older brother and a younger sister and her parents are both lawyers, too. She has a cat and owns a beachside condo and a lovely next-door neighbor apparently willing to look after said cat while Penelope’s away.

There are things she brushes over, Lizzie can tell, like her relationship with her parents and the European boarding school she attended. She’s seen Penelope tell a half-truth or a blatant lie often enough to know her tells. But no one in Mystic Falls knows her, so it doesn’t really matter much, as long as they’re telling the same story. It makes Lizzie curious, tingling with the kind of intrigue that makes her want to uncover all of Penelope’s secrets. She blames the tingling on the whiskey and the candlelight, illuminating Penelope with a halo of gold around her head, her eyes sparkling in the dim light. 

But that’s not the plan here. It’s one week, free of pity from her family, and when it’s all over, they can go back to normal. Business as usual. 

Lizzie would only realize later how wrong she had been.


	2. Chapter 2

“You haven’t yet told me how we met,” Penelope says, once they’re settled in their seats on the plane. While Lizzie had sprung for first-class for them both, she was regretting the decision the moment she had fastened the seat belt. She hates flying. “You know, the lie for your family.”

Placing her arms on the armrest, she tries not to let Penelope see the whites of her knuckles as she grips the soft leather. Her nails are done properly now, and all she has to do is make it through the night with Penelope Park at her side. Preferably without having Penelope figure out just how much Lizzie despises the feeling of being miles above the ground in a fancy metal box. Closing her eyes and swallowing deeply, Lizzie blinks them open quickly when Penelope grabs her hand, lacing their fingers together. 

“Hey, look at me,” she says softly, ducking her head so that those passing their row to their seats wouldn’t hear her. Lizzie clenches her jaw together before turning her head to look at Penelope. Their foreheads were nearly touching and the intimacy of the way that they were sitting wasn’t lost on Lizzie as she takes in Penelope’s eyes. 

“The fearless Lizzie Saltzman is afraid of flying,” Penelope whispers and her tone is light and teasing. 

“More like I have to be stuck next to you for the entire flight,” Lizzie tries to spit back, but Penelope's rubbing her hand with her thumb and her nerves seem to fade away with each and every touch. 

“Excuse me?” Penelope asks, holding a hand up to the flight attendant as she passed their row. The woman pauses, laying a hand over the headrest of Lizzie’s seat. “Can you bring me and my girlfriend two glasses of champagne, please? She’s not the best with flying and it’s our anniversary. Thank you.” The flight attendant smiles, her eyes traveling down to their clasped hands and Lizzie thinks that she grins in return, but can’t be sure. This Penelope — kind and caring and understanding was enough to give her whiplash. 

Lizzie wants to gaze open-mouthed at Penelope who lets go of her hand before flipping through the book that she had grabbed out of her purse before stowing it under the seat in front of her. Lizzie takes a sip of the champagne when it’s brought to her, glancing over at Penelope who closes the book in her lap to grab the other flute of amber liquid.

“Cheers,” Penelope smirks as her champagne flute clinks against Lizzie. The alcohol is cold in Lizzie’s mouth and she feels sparks in her fingertips and down to her stomach. Lizzie inhales sharply as they take off and Penelope reaches for her hand again. “Come on, my darling girlfriend,” and Lizzie smiles at the teasing lilt in her tone. “Let’s figure out our romantic love story and distract you a bit.”

Penelope’s quick fingers tracing patterns on her skin are at least distracting enough to mostly keep her mind off the fucking plane departing the very nice, very safe ground. Mostly. “We got to talking over a case,” Lizzie suggests, eyes on the column of Penelope’s throat and the way her hair curled in cascading waves down her back. 

Penelope shakes her head. “I see you have no appreciation for the fine art of romance, Saltzman.”

“Oh yeah?” Lizzie asks, her pulse quickening from the swooping in her stomach as the plane levels out at cruising speed. Definitely not from the way Penelope’s index finger was trailing lines all over her palm. 

“Well, it’s obvious that I wooed you. We were working late on a case together one night — you decided to take pity on me because you knew that I was in over my head with motions and depos, so we ordered in on the company’s dime. You stayed behind a few moments to lock up your office and as you got outside, the sky opened up on you — a freak rainstorm for L.A., but not uncommon. You had obviously forgotten an umbrella because who would have thought that it was going to rain in the middle of June, but I had already made it safely to my car and found you soaking wet waiting for an Uber in the middle of the street. I offered you a ride home, because I am nothing if not chivalrous —” Lizzie snorts at this, but Penelope pays her no mind and continues, her voice low, “and you asked me to come in. You said something about a bottle of whiskey from your father that had been sitting on your counter for nearly a year and that we should celebrate. As we made it to your front door, I realized that even though you were dripping wet and your blouse was clinging to you like a second skin, I had never seen anyone more beautiful. I waited patiently until you had changed your clothes, watching the lights from the city out of the window in your living room and when you finally came out of your bedroom, dressed in leggings and an old sweater, your makeup scrubbed clean from your face, I knew that I had to kiss you.” 

“That’s — that’s,” Lizzie begins, her mouth dry and her heart in her throat. Was she really so touch-starved and desperate for something like the love that Penelope had spun in her lie that she was affected so deeply? No, she was being foolish. She had guarded her heart well since she had left home. No time for herself meant no time for dating and no time to think about how the love she had seen growing up had only served to tear people apart. Well, her mom and Bonnie excluded. And Josie was — whatever she had with the ostrich wasn't an epic love story. 

She had no desire to have her heart broken, least of all by someone like Penelope Park. At least it was all a lie. A fabricated tale that had an expiration date and a shelf-life and they could go back to their own lives after this was all over. 

“It's plausible, romantic, and an easy lie. There’s nothing like a storm to bring two people together,” Penelope says simply, bringing Lizzie back to the conversation. 

For a brief moment, Lizzie wonders what it would be like to be wooed by Penelope Park, before she clears her throat. “That sounds fine,” she manages.

They’re served dinner at some point and it tastes like cardboard in her mouth, nothing like the meal that she had with Penelope the night previous. Penelope, after thoroughly disarming Lizzie, turns back to her book and Lizzie grabs a blanket to try to get some sleep, reclining her seat all the way back and thanking all the gods that they were in first class and she could actually get a few hours of sleep in their flying death box. 

She wakes at one point and sees Penelope fully reclined, her face turned toward Lizzie. She seemed smaller when she was asleep — less like a shark circling her prey and more like a young woman who smiled while she was reading and enjoyed watching the sunset out of the windows of planes. The dichotomy was jarring. 

Lizzie wakes when they’re over Kentucky and makes her way to the restroom to wash her face, brush her teeth, run her fingers through her hair, and change into a clean pair of jeans. Penelope is still asleep next to her, her hand outstretched toward Lizzie’s seat, but she opens her eyes as Lizzie settles back in her seat. 

“You clean up well for someone who slept on a plane,” she comments, stretching her arms over her head. Lizzie notes the way that Penelope’s shirt rides up at the movement. 

“Perks of first-class,” she croaks out, temporarily rendered speechless at the sight of olive skin. 

Penelope takes her hand again when they’re about to land. She smells like vanilla and peony after a trip to the bathroom and her eyes look brighter in the light of the newly-risen sun. Lizzie had flagged a flight attendant for some coffee for them and Penelope had taken the cup with a happy sigh, inhaling the steam from with a sigh. 

“You make an adorable couple,” the flight attendant says when they leave, and Penelope grins at Lizzie once they’re outside. 

“Told you we’d rock this.” 

As soon as they’re past the gate, she sees Josie because _of_ _course_ her sister would come even when Lizzie told her not to. Even when she had secured a car for the drive. And she brought Landon. Lizzie rolls her eyes. A week with the chicken. Great. 

The first words he says to Penelope are, “So, you’re actually real.” The fucking asshole. 

Penelope looks him up and down contemptuously, an expression on her face that Lizzie knows all too well from the courtroom and one that has brought much better men close to tears. “I see Lizzie got all the taste,” is all she replies, before tossing her bag into his direction. “You should probably be carrying this, don’t you think?” Her arm snakes around Lizzie’s waist and Lizzie bites back a smile. 

Watching Landon stumble to catch the bag, Lizzie decides that her deal with the devil was absolutely worth it. She’d give up a whole slew of promotions to watch Penelope demolish her sister’s idiot boyfriend. 

Josie smiles, looking between them. “I can see how you’d get along with Lizzie,” she says, “it’s a pleasure to meet you, Penelope.”

“Likewise, Josie. Lizzie has told me all about you. Nothing about you though,” she says, turning back to Landon. “Lizzie, I didn’t know your family had a butler.” 

“We don’t,” Josie says, eyebrow raised as she glares at Penelope. 

Penelope doesn’t seem the least bit fazed. “My mistake. A driver.”

“This is my boyfriend Landon, Penelope,” Josie barely bites out, teeth clenched. 

Lizzie leans into Penelope, who smiles, somehow both politely and devilishly, her arm wrapping around Lizzie. “I never would have guessed.”

Josie holds Lizzie back as Penelope supervises Landon lifting their bags into the car. “Does she know? About us? About — ” Josie lowers her voice, “magic?”

“No, she doesn’t. And you better keep your mouth shut so that our secrets can stay secret. So, tell your boyfriend to keep his ashy, feathery hands to himself for the week that we are home.” Lizzie whispers the words quietly, glaring at Landon. She made no secret of her disdain for Josie’s boyfriend. He was just so — boring. Josie was like an inferno, a raging fire that deserved to burn brightly. Landon was an extinguished garbage fire and he wasn’t worth the time that her sister spent on him. 

The drive to the hotel is surprisingly pleasant. Caroline texts to see if she’s landed safely and plans are made for dinner later. Lizzie barely gets out of brunch with Josie and Landon, who insisted on taking them to a restaurant called Wacky Pete’s, but after reminding them that they had taken the red-eye, Josie and Landon relented and promised to see them later that evening. 

Penelope’s laughter fills the hallway as they make their way to the room. “That can’t have been your sister’s boyfriend. She could do so much better.” 

“I know,” Lizzie replies, pushing the keycard into the door and shoving it open, her suitcase trailing after her. Penelope laughs a bit more before the smile slides off of her face as she comes inside the room. 

There’s only one bed. Lizzie knows this, of course. She booked the room, after all. She just hadn’t really given it a second thought in the last twenty-four hours. Thank god it was a king-sized bed. 

“I can take the couch,” Penelope offers, but her voice is drawn and Lizzie can see her clenching her jaw. 

“No, you won’t. I must have — I wasn’t thinking last night. I’ll take the couch and you take the bed. I owe you, at any rate.” Lizzie opens her suitcase and grabs out a change of clothes and her toiletries as Penelope tugs off her boots and lay on the bed, opening her laptop. She spares no glance up at Lizzie to acknowledge Lizzie’s comment, which is just as well. 

They aren’t friends, something Lizzie is having a hard time remembering after the flight. Penelope at work was hard, impenetrable, caustic. This Penelope— she’s different. Funny, sarcastic, kind. 

Lizzie lingers in the shower, washing off the plane and the week that she had. She sighs deeply, resting her head against the cool granite, the steam swirling around her and the hot water hitting her back. She is building a house of cards with her lies, she knows that, and she fears it will fall to pieces before her eyes. She fears she will take one wrong step with Penelope and her stupid fabrication will fail. 

Maybe it had been a bad idea, this web of lies. But on the other hand, she remembers the condescension in Landon’s tone. She’s terribly, terribly sick of coming back here and being the broken one. 

By the time she comes out of the shower, Penelope has ordered what looks to be half the room service menu. 

“Just because we don’t want to have brunch with the peasants doesn’t mean we shouldn’t splurge,” Penelope says as Lizzie towels off her hair, her shoulder exposed in a green v-neck sweater that she had paired with yoga pants. 

“You do seem very happy to spend _my_ money,” Lizzie replies, but her stomach growls as she looks at the omelet and french toast in front of her. 

“You make more than enough to cover room service. Come and eat the food, Saltzman. Or shall I feed it to you like the good girlfriend I am?” 

“We’re alone, Penelope. You don’t have to pretend,” Lizzie sighs as she sits across from Penelope at the small table in the suite, laden with coffee and orange juice. Their view of downtown Mystic Falls in July was just like it always had been - lush green trees and crowds of people wandering the streets. It was quaint, even if it did wear its paranormal history very close to its surface. Far too close for Lizzie’s liking, if she was being honest. 

“Practice,” Penelope says, laying the napkin in her lap. “Intimacy can’t be built overnight, no matter how charming I am.” 

“Whoever told you you were charming?” Lizzie questions. 

Penelope shakes her head, holding a strawberry between her fingers. “You definitely need to up your game before tonight.”

Fuck it. Two can play this game, and Lizzie isn’t about to be bested by Penelope Park. She leans across the table, her lips closing over the fruit, her eyes on Penelope the entire time as she bites into it. Penelope inhales sharply and if Lizzie lets her lips graze over Penelope’s fingertips, well, that’s all a part of the game, isn’t it?

“That’s better,” Penelope says, with barely a trace of a tremor in her voice. Damn, Lizzie is losing her touch. She grabs a piece of french toast, drizzling it generously with syrup before she looks back up to Penelope. 

“What?” she asks, an eyebrow raised. 

“So what is it about being home that makes you — why did you have to bring a date home, Lizzie?” 

She bites into the toast. She deserves at least a second before answering. Penelope doesn’t press, just waits patiently as Lizzie contemplates. “Maybe I just wanted Josie and Landon to stop acting like the perfect couple, because they’re clearly not.” She chews slowly. “Everything with Josie, having a twin is like — it’s always a competition. Who does better in school. Who excels at sports. And with Josie, we never had to compete until she started dating _him_ and it was all my parents could talk about. After a while, it just gets old and sometimes a girl goes to law school across the country and stays because a law firm gave her a job as an associate.” 

She looks out the window, taking another bite of toast. “They want me to come back. My parents started a school here, when we were kids, and now Josie and my mom run it together. My mom and Bonnie have lived here all of their lives. Mom and Josie were both Miss Mystic Falls. People tend to stay here, and the fact that I never wanted to confuses my family — they don’t see beyond their own legacies.” 

“So our mission is making it clear that you’re happy in L.A. and that I’m the much better choice than that dimwit your sister is dating. Which should be easy,” Penelope finishes with a very self-satisfied grin. 

“You’re insufferable,” Lizzie sighs, adding more syrup to her toast. 

“You picked me,” Penelope reminds her. 

“I did not,” Lizzie disputes. “You bothered me while I was drinking and offered yourself up.”

“I rescued you from the terrors of online dating. I’m definitely the hero of this story.”

“You just wanted a free vacation and a promotion. There isn’t an altruistic bone in your body.” But Lizzie’s smiling despite herself. Penelope’s still dressed in her clothing from the plane and she glances out of the window, her profile framed with the sun and something catches in Lizzie’s throat. She swallows it down along with her food. 

She really needs to get her body under control. Yes, Penelope is gorgeous — anyone with eyes can see that. But they aren’t ever going to — nothing’s going to happen, no matter how much Penelope’s touch makes Lizzie’s skin tingle. This is a business transaction. Plain and simple. 

The day passes easily enough — they both have work to finish up (even if they are technically on leave) and it’s almost nice as she relaxes and works alongside Penelope. Lizzie falls asleep on the couch at one point and wakes up to a blanket covering her body. Penelope, it seems, hasn’t moved from her spot at the table, a leg pulled up on the chair where she rests her head as she types. She must have showered while Lizzie dozed, however — her hair hangs wet and curling and her face is free of makeup. She’s somehow still amazingly, effortlessly gorgeous. 

Lizzie dresses for dinner in the bathroom, pulling on a little black dress that she had bought for a client dinner a while back. Even though they were only meeting everyone for dinner at her mom's house, there was nothing wrong with a little bit of high-end armor.

As she opens the door, Penelope stands in front of the mirror adjusting a gold necklace on her chest. She’s dressed in tight black slacks and a dark navy blouse, her arms and shoulders bare in the sleeveless top. Her heels give her a bit of height, but she was still a bit shorter than Lizzie, something the blonde noted, eyes following Penelope’s curves up and down. She looks good. Damn good. Penelope glances at her in the mirror as she stands before it, an eyebrow raised. 

“I take back what I said on the plane. If this is you dressing for dinner with your family, I don’t know how I’ll survive a week of this.” Lizzie watches Penelope’s chest rise and fall before responding with a “shut up, Penelope,” even as her lips curl into a smile at the praise. 

Fuck, this dinner might be harder to get through than she thought. 


	3. Chapter 3

Lizzie calls a car service because it's been years since she’s taken a cab and just because they’re in the south doesn’t mean that she has to slum it with the rest of the yokels. Penelope's quiet as she gazes out of the window as the car takes them closer to downtown. Lizzie feels a headache forming behind her eyes but tries to blink it away. The night hadn’t even started yet and she already wanted to escape to the safety of their hotel room. 

She hadn’t really thought enough about the fact that this plan requires her to spend a week lying to both her Mom and Josie, which isn’t going to be easy to pull off. At all. 

Penelope opens the car door for her once they’re in front of Caroline’s house, reaching for her hand and intertwining their fingers with the kind of effortless motion that makes Lizzie’s heart do a _thing._ Which it needs to stop doing. 

“Small towns,” Penelope says, “someone’s always watching.”

“You’re either scarily good at this or you’ve seen too many episodes of Pretty Little Liars, Mona,” Lizzie deadpans, if only to ignore the swoop in her stomach. 

“So, what do I need to know?” Penelope asks, pausing on the sidewalk to tuck a stray lock of Lizzie’s hair behind her ear. 

_Only that my mom’s a vampire and her soon-to-be-wife is a witch and they used to be best friends but Caroline’s fiance killed Bonnie’s boyfriend and now they’re somehow marrying each other._ “Nothing, they’re just normal people. Caroline is the headmaster of the school that I mentioned and Bonnie works in consulting.” If by consulting she means, specializing in end-of-the-world scenarios and conversations with the dead.

“Totally normal people.” 

“So, how did you come from totally normal people then?” Penelope asks as Lizzie opens the front door with her free hand, hoping to not have to answer that question, now or ever. 

“Mom? Jo?” 

It’s Bonnie who greets them, rushing out of the kitchen and immediately pulling Lizzie into a hug. “Your Mom’s just getting dressed. So, she should be down any minute, or in half an hour.” 

Next to her, Penelope chuckles and squeezes Lizzie’s hand. “So, that’s where you get it from,” she says, and sounds like a loving, teasing girlfriend, and not at all like someone who was calling Lizzie “Saltzman” yesterday. She _really_ is scarily good at this.

“You’re one to talk,” she replies, and she might be smiling. Whatever. She’s happy to see Bonnie. It’s not Penelope at all. 

Bonnie laughs, turning to Penelope. “And you must be Penelope.”

“It’s a total pleasure to meet you, Bonnie. Lizzie wouldn’t stop talking about you on the ride over.” The lies seem effortless, flowing out of Penelope’s mouth like gospel and Lizzie has to remind herself that none of this is real. 

Bonnie pulls her into a hug too, saying how lovely it is to meet Penelope and about how Lizzie has been hiding her, and it feels easy, seamless. Too good to be true. Which it is, Lizzie reminds herself, as her mother descends down the stairs, looking not a day over seventeen. 

“Elizabeth,” Caroline smiles and Lizzie just shakes her head, inhaling deeply. “I don’t know what you did to scare off your sister and Landon, but it’ll just be us four tonight.” 

“It wasn’t my fault,” Lizzie says, hugging her mother. They were nearly the same height now and Lizzie feels herself sink into the embrace. After everything, a hug from Caroline still felt so much like home and Lizzie bites back the sentiment, swallowing it down. “Penelope thought he was the butler,” she says smiling. 

“An honest mistake,” Penelope says but she’s smiling just the same.

“It seems my daughter has poisoned the well when it comes to Josie’s relationship. You need to lay off of him. He’s a good guy.” 

“He isn’t. Not for Josie,” Lizzie argues back, but Penelope just grabs her hand with a low _babe_ escaping her lips. 

“I’m Penelope. Thank you for welcoming me into your home, Miss Forbes,” Penelope interjects quickly, reaching a hand out to shake Caroline’s. The older blonde looks at her for a moment and Lizzie wonders if her mom’s going to compel her date before she pulls Penelope into a hug. 

“Call me Caroline! It’s not every day my daughter brings someone home,” Caroline says as she lets go of Penelope, taking her by the hands. “It means so much to us to have you here for our special day. Now, come on, you two, I didn’t spend all day over a hot stove for nothing.”

“Excuse me?” Bonnie says, raising an eyebrow as they move further into the house, the open concept kitchen and dining room awash with light. 

“ _Bonnie_ didn't spend all day over a hot stove for nothing, is what I meant,” Caroline amends quickly with a wink to her fiancee, who just shakes her head with a deep sigh. The two women move around in the kitchen, grabbing red and white wine and wine glasses.

Lizzie looks back and forth between her mom and Bonnie and Penelope, resisting the urge to bite the lipstick off her lower lip because this was actually going well and it could all go to shit in a moment, but Penelope just reaches out to her, her hand warm on Lizzie’s cheek to steady her. As if she knew that Lizzie felt caught out, off-kilter. 

“You’ve been holding out on me. Your mom's a catch,” Penelope whispers, pulling Lizzie toward the island where appetizers were laid out. “This looks amazing, Bonnie,” Penelope grins. 

Dinner goes rather splendidly. Penelope is a delight, and Lizzie has to remind herself several times that Penelope is _infuriating_ at the best of times and they’ll be back to their normal, competitive selves come next week. Penelope tells the story of how they finally got together so well that Lizzie could almost imagine it happening. 

Josie must have briefed Caroline and Bonnie about not mentioning magic because there’s not even a single close call. 

It’s nice, Lizzie thinks, to be able to see her family and not have to worry about shenanigans at the school and monster attacks. Intoxicatingly normal. Caroline and Penelope compare notes on European cities they’ve both visited, and Bonnie entertains them all with stories of the wedding preparations and it’s fun, to tell her Mom about the cases they’ve been working on and to listen to Penelope talk about why she wanted to become a lawyer. Or rather, how she was pressured into becoming a lawyer by her parents. 

This is the life they could have had, maybe, but at the other end of the table, her mother is definitely not drinking just red wine, and Penelope, next to her, her hand comfortably resting on Lizzie’s thigh under the table, is definitely not her girlfriend. The lie holds and the illusion remains in place. 

Despite all of that, it’s one of the best nights of her life. 

It’s easier, with Penelope there, to leave the past behind and stop thinking about lies and secrets and mistakes. 

(With Penelope there, home actually feels like home again.)

Goodbyes take nearly half an hour because Lizzie finds herself promising to help with the cocktail hour the following evening and Bonnie and Penelope compare notes about how to make the best creme brulee. The hugs are endless, it seems, and Caroline whispers how much she adores Penelope in Lizzie’s ear. Her heart clenches at the words and she bites back everything she wants to say. The text from the driver that he’s arrived saves her from the shame of her fake relationship and Penelope, who seems to relish in catching Lizzie off-guard with her touches, grabs her hand as they head to the car, opening the door for her to slide in.

“Come on,” Penelope says, when they’re entering the lobby minutes later, “you can buy me a drink and tell me just how _amazing_ of a fake girlfriend I am.”

Lizzie rolls her eyes but follows Penelope to the bar anyway. It’s all dark wood and maroon booths, soft light ensconced in the walls. A piano sits by itself in the corner and Lizzie imagines an older man in a tuxedo playing a soft jazz tune. They grab a booth and Penelope disappears to order them drinks and Lizzie sighs into the leather. 

“Explain something to me, Saltzman,” Penelope says a twenty minutes later, putting her drink down as she turns to Lizzie. They had been engaging in small talk mostly and it’s almost too easy to be here with Penelope, drinking vodka and discussing the most mundane of topics, including the best restaurants and beaches in LA. Penelope maintained that nothing beat Venice’s boardwalk, but Lizzie preferred Malibu. 

Lizzie looks up from where she might have been admiring the way Penelope’s shirt flatters her figure. “What?”

“I may not be an expert on family, but these people love you. They couldn’t give a shit about who you bring home, male, female, or anyone else. They seem genuinely happy to see you and there just seems like, like there’s a wall a mile high between you and them.” 

Lizzie sighs, eyes unfocused as she glances away from Penelope, picking at her cuticles before Penelope’s hand on hers stops the fidgeting. 

“My dad, who you may or may not meet because — it’s complicated with him. We don’t really talk anymore, but he still lives in the area.” 

“Okay, so you have daddy issues. That doesn’t explain the entire fucking country between you and your family.” 

“I do not have daddy— anyway, I’m getting to it, asshat,” Lizzie says with frustration. “He lied a lot when we were teenagers about some pretty important things. And Mom backed him up for a while and — I guess I’ve never really forgiven them for it.” 

“Some pretty important things?” Penelope questions. 

Lizzie’s fated deathmatch with her sister, to be exact. Not really something she can explain.

“Our biological mother died when we were younger,” Lizzie begins slowly, toeing the line between what would sound normal to a normal human and what could actually be plausible. “And Mom and Dad raised us together, but they were never really together as a couple. It was more like a partnership, I guess. And they didn’t tell me and Josie until we were teenagers.” Truth, to some extent, wrapped in a huge lie that was the Gemini Coven and its stupid fucking rituals. 

“So, is that where Bonnie comes in?” Penelope was asking far too many questions and Lizzie was not nearly drunk enough for this conversation. 

Lizzie bites the bullet, more or less. She’s going to have to brief everyone on her version of events, but for some reason, she wants to share some thread of the truth with Penelope. “There’s a lot of history on our biological mom’s side of the family. A lot of bad blood. Her brother was responsible for her death —” and that’s certainly putting it mildly, “and by the time he came after me and Josie, they still hadn’t told us. Mom and Bonnie saved us, but they should have told us. Before everything.”

“What do you mean ‘came after you’? Like, for your mom’s estate?” 

“Yes, exactly,” Lizzie lies, taking a long sip of her drink. 

Penelope fixes her with a knowing glare. “That’s half the story at best. But since you’re paying for my drink, I suppose I’ll accept it.”

“I’m paying for more than your drink, Penelope.” 

Lizzie wants to probe, wants to ask about Penelope’s family because, for all she knows, they’re absolutely perfect. But her comment earlier makes her think that she isn’t the only one hiding things. 

They’re two drinks in by the time they go upstairs, and Lizzie has to remind her mind several times to stay on track. Penelope, even if her arm is wrapped around Lizzie’s waist, is a colleague who’s doing her a favor. 

It should be easier when it’s dark, when Lizzie has more or less made herself comfortable on the sofa and Penelope is settled in bed. It isn’t. They take turns in the bathroom, brushing their teeth and washing their faces, only passing each other wordlessly for a brief second that made Lizzie feel as if she had been doused in cold water. Penelope’s hand brushes her knuckles and she inhales sharply, but the moment’s lost as Penelope disappears into the bathroom. 

She can hear Penelope breathing only feet away in the pitch-black room. The air between them feels charged and Lizzie inhales deeply. 

“They’re nice,” Penelope says from the bed, “your family.”

“They liked you. My phone wouldn’t stop pinging in the group chat with comments about you and how lucky I am. You — you did well tonight. Thank you.” 

“Glad to be of service, Saltzman.” There’s a moment of silence. “I liked them, too,” Penelope adds. “You’re lucky, you know. Some families don’t — sometimes things aren’t as easy for other families to cope with and your family seems to have come out of everything stronger. Even if it may not feel that way.” 

“Stronger is one word for it, Park,” Lizzie sighs, running a hand through her hair, facing the ceiling. She could hear Penelope shifting on the bed, imaging her laying down with her head in her hand, turned toward the couch. “Haven’t you ever been faced with the reality that someone that you thought you knew something about turned out to be a completely different person? It changes things.” 

“Sweet dreams, Lizzie,” is all she hears in response. And it shouldn’t make her throat close up with emotions she can’t, won’t, name. It shouldn’t — because they’re nothing to each other. Coworkers at best and barely friends and as she falls asleep, she feels the phantom tingle in her fingers, up her wrist and on her thigh where Penelope’s hands were touching her most of the evening.


	4. Chapter 4

Lizzie actually brings a date. 

A very pretty, very snarky, very _female_ date who Lizzie seems incredibly happy with. Which is — good. All of this is good. Josie wants Lizzie to be happy, more than anything. She just wasn’t expecting _this_.

Because Lizzie ran away right after graduation and stayed in California after law school and has built this life in a place nearly 3,000 miles away from Josie and it still stings to think about the distance. To think about how once they shared everything and now it only feels like all that they share are a last name and the same parents.

Josie thinks about how Penelope Park, who was an absolute stranger to everyone in Mystic Falls until yesterday, almost seems to know Lizzie better than Josie does. How even the moment that they stepped past the security gate at the airport, Josie could feel something bubbling between them. A nascent love, a sense of belonging. There was a peace about Lizzie that Josie hasn’t ever seen before. She looks comfortable in her own skin, confident, and happy.

She looks like the memories of everything that they’ve been through have finally been shed and thrown away. She looks whole. 

And Josie feels quite the opposite. 

She looks around, forgetting where they are. Where she is. They’re having drinks (a celebratory cocktail hour, Bonnie called it) in the bar of the hotel where Lizzie and Penelope are staying, and it’s more than a little crowded. Luckily, the outdoor patio and banquet hall for the actual wedding next week is larger — between Bonnie and Caroline, almost the entire town and most of the school’s students will be there. It’s going to be a spectacle, but Josie is sure that Caroline wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Landon’s getting them drinks. He’s been away for a while now, and she looks around, spotting him engaged in conversation with the bartender. Which is —fine. He’s always had a bit of a wandering eye and a penchant to be distracted by other women, but no relationship is perfect. Josie can wait. 

The bartender looks up and catches Josie watching her from across the room, and their gazes meet over Landon’s shoulder. The woman smiles, and her blue eyes sparkle in the light, and Josie can’t help but smile back. There’s something _special_ about her, something almost magical in her smile. She’s absolutely beautiful.

Josie feels fluttery, lighter— it’s probably jealousy. The women Landon gets distracted by aren’t usually this drop-dead gorgeous, so clearly he has taste. The bartender turns back to Landon, a smile on her face that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Nothing like the smile that she threw Josie’s way. It’s enough to make Josie smirk in delight. 

Josie finds herself on the way to the bathroom, tired of waiting and needing a moment to herself, when soft fingers wrap around her wrist, stopping her. 

“Can I buy you a drink?” the bartender asks, her voice low and husky as if she knows what she's doing is against the rules. 

“You just served two drinks to my boyfriend. I think I’m set for now,” Josie says, feeling the air rush out of her lungs. Because up close, the girl was stunning. Auburn hair and the brightest eyes and a smile that Josie aches to see again. 

“Later, I mean,” the girl amends, and her hand is still on Josie’s wrist as Josie’s pulse dances underneath her touch. 

“Why?” 

“My aunt always told me that when someone can stop you in your tracks the way you stopped me with your smile, you should chase after them,” the girl says with a shrug. The phrase didn’t sound overused. Maybe she means it. Maybe she doesn’t. “You never know what could happen.” 

“I have a boyfriend,” Josie manages, glancing back toward the busy bar. 

The girl’s smile doesn’t waver. “He spent twenty minutes trying to get my number. You can do better.” The asshole. Josie inhales slowly through her nose, closing her eyes before opening them again. 

“I’m Josie,” is all she says. 

“I know who you are, Josie Saltzman. You’re _bewitching_.” 

“Who are you?” Josie prompts. She should probably walk away, that would be the smart thing to do. But she doesn't want to. Because Lizzie bringing Penelope home and seeing them together has made her chest ache in a way that puts the twin sense to shame. Love shouldn’t feel stifling and caustic. 

It shouldn’t feel like an uphill battle, especially when Landon seems willing to flirt with anyone with a pulse. 

“Hope,” the girl says. 

“Just Hope?” Josie questions. 

“Let me buy you a drink and I’ll tell you everything you want to know,” Hope barters, and the smart course of action would definitely be to walk away, because Josie is in a relationship and should know better, but Hope is gorgeous and intriguing and then there's fucking Lizzie and her perfect relationship that waltzed in yesterday and everything is a confusing mess —

“One drink,” Josie says. 

Ten minutes later, after she’s rescued Penelope and Lizzie from Aunt Elena’s ongoing monologue, she still can’t get the feeling of Hope’s touch on her skin out of her mind. 

Lizzie elbows her, whispering sharply. She’s dressed in a red cocktail dress and she must have coordinated with Penelope because the brunette is in a black dress with red accents. They look great together — complementing each other in more ways than one. “What’s wrong with you? You haven’t said a word and you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I think — the bartender just hit on me.”

Penelope whistles appreciatively. “Get it, Little Saltzman.”

“You know I’m the older twin, right?” 

“That’s absolutely irrelevant,” Lizzie interjects. “You exude baby sister energy.” 

“Rude,” Josie says, glancing back to where Hope was speaking with Damon and Marcel. “She said Landon hit on her and then she hit on me? I don’t know. It was weird.” 

“Landon hit on her?” Lizzie questions, her voice low and dangerous, and Josie’s momentarily worried that her sister will decide to blow up the room, which would be incredibly hard to explain to most of the town’s citizens. Not to mention Penelope. Lizzie takes a step forward to where Landon’s speaking with M.G. and Kym, but Penelope grabs her by the waist and holds her back. Lizzie seems to sink into the embrace, which was only a little nauseating. 

“You’re a better lawyer than this, Saltzman,” Penelope intercepts, “there are witnesses here. Just wait until later.”

“I thought I brought you to get me out of jail if I accidentally killed the butler, _darling_ ,” Lizzie says through clenched teeth. Penelope calling Lizzie “Saltzman” was cute. Weird, but cute. 

“And here I thought you brought me because you couldn’t survive a week without me.”

Lizzie blushes — actually blushes — and Josie will definitely hold this over her head later, even as she clears her throat. “Stop flirting and tell me what to do about the bartender. And Landon.”

“You like her, right?” Penelope asks, an eyebrow raised. She hasn’t let go of Lizzie yet and her sister doesn’t seem to mind, an arm slung around Penelope’s waist. 

Josie sighs loudly, running a hand through her hair and biting her lip because yeah, she did like her. Or maybe she was intrigued. Or maybe she was just so overwhelmed by all of this and she wasn’t thinking clearly. 

“Yes, no, maybe. I don’t know. It’s not important.” 

“Oh, but baby sister, it is important,” Lizzie purrs and Penelope smiles at Lizzie with such warmth that Josie feels her own cheeks grow warm. “A few moments with that girl and you’re glowing, Jo. How long has it been since Landon made you feel like that?” 

Josie gulps down her drink. Never. Absolutely never. By the expression on Lizzie’s face, she doesn’t even need to say it. 

“This feels like a Lifetime movie moment where the girl realizes that she’s been blind the whole time,” Penelope remarks with a smile and Lizzie turns in her arms, bringing her free hand up to Penelope’s cheek. 

“You watch Lifetime movies? I never pegged you as a hopeless romantic,” Lizzie says slowly, a smile bursting across her face as she teases Penelope. She turns her attention back to Josie, but Josie doesn’t miss the way Penelope’s eyes stay on Lizzie. “Anyway, after that unhelpful comment from my darling girlfriend — you know that I haven’t always been the biggest fan of Kirby, but there’s one thing that I don’t condone and that’s cheating, Josette. So, I think you need to get your house in order before anything happens with the beautiful bartender.” 

“I’ve built this life with Landon, Lizzie. It can’t be undone so quickly,” Josie protests, even if her argument feels weak to even her own ears. 

“Who says it can’t?” 

Lizzie’s words stay with her, even as Penelope pulls Lizzie onto the makeshift dance floor, taking the taller blonde by the hand and spinning her with such delight that Lizzie squeals — actually squeals — before Penelope pulls her back to her. Josie feels her heart clench with the enormity of her wants. She wants what Penelope and Lizzie have so badly, can feel the ache down to the deepest reaches of her heart. She wants comfort and safety and someone that can take her breath away. But as she gazes at Landon, who inclines his head with a crooked smile, Josie can’t help but feel as if he stopped giving her those things years ago. 

“Can we talk?” she asks him as she approaches, her hands shaking. She pulls him outside of the hotel, eyes cast downward at her feet before she glances up at Landon. He’s looking around, anywhere but at Josie and she fixes him with a stare. 

“Jo, what’s this about? You’re making a scene.” 

It’s almost shockingly easy. Landon is anything but restrained, and his insults are biting, but Josie has never been able to breathe easier. She hadn’t realized, for months, or maybe for years, just how unhappy she’d been. 

“I’d rather not come second to any other woman you just pass by,” she says, and watches Landon’s face fall. He seems to be realizing, slowly, that she’s utterly serious about this. Utterly serious about changing their lives at her mother’s cocktail hour just days before her wedding. 

“Look, I don’t know what you saw but if this is just because of some bartender —” he attempts, but Josie cuts him off. She bites down the sudden defense of Hope that comes to mind first, who is definitely a lot more than _some bartender_ because that is so very much not the point she should be making. 

“She’s not the first, Landon, and you know it. I can’t do this anymore. Us anymore.” And more importantly, maybe, she doesn’t want to. “I’ll have Lizzie come get my things or you can drop them off sometime. But this — we aren’t — I’m not happy, Landon. And I won’t be happy until I put myself first.” 

“Josie, please — we can talk about this. You can’t just —” 

“I can’t just what, Landon? Watch you flirt with everything that moves and has a pulse? It’s been years of this and I’m done. I’m done.” 

Josie looks at him, nods a few times to herself, and then heads back inside. She finds Lizzie leaning back against the bar, Penelope by her side, and a champagne flute in their hands. 

“A toast, baby sister!” Lizzie declares happily. Josie blinks back tears and knows she should be more torn up about this. She should be sobbing, she should be a wreck. She shouldn’t be holding up her glass to her twin and biting back a smile because she feels a thousand pounds lighter and her heart finally beats in a way that didn't feel like it was wrapped in barbed wire any longer. 

“To hot bartenders!” Lizzie practically yells, holding her champagne flute high. Penelope just shakes her head, and the smile she directs Lizzie’s way is so gentle, so indulgent that Josie almost feels like she’s intruding. 

“I don’t know how you put up with her,” Josie says to Penelope, who laughs loudly, taking a sip of her drink. 

“She has a way of growing on you,” Penelope remarks. “Like a tumor,” she amends, sticking her tongue out at Lizzie. 

“Sounds like someone wants to sleep on the couch tonight,” Lizzie says quickly, but she winks at Penelope just the same. 

“You’d miss me too much,” Penelope grins. 

“You want to test that theory then?” 

Josie finishes her champagne in one gulp and she feels the effervescence down to her toes before she glances up. Hope's watching her again and almost of their own volition, Josie’s feet take her to the bar, where she drops on one of the stools at the end. 

“You’ve lost the boyfriend,” Hope observes, placing a glass in front of Josie. 

“I didn’t order a drink,” Josie says because she can’t say anything else. She can’t talk about Landon. Not right now. Not after everything. Not when Hope is looking at her with the bluest eyes she has ever seen. 

“I told you I was going to buy you one. This is me buying you one. Fruity? You look like a fruity girl.” 

“That’s an assumption,” Josie challenges, even if the liquid placed in front of her looks good. It’s pink and sparkles and smells like lemons and grapefruit. She’s definitely a fruity girl. 

Hope just smirks at her, and god, that smirk makes Josie want to do all kinds of things to Hope. “Just try it, you’ll like it.”

Josie tries the absolutely delicious cocktail as Hope serves two more people before she returns. The smug smile she wears makes Josie weak in the knees. Thank god she’s sitting. “Did you like it?” she asks. 

“It’s not horrible,” Josie deflects. 

Hope raises an eyebrow. “I’ll take that. So now, Josie Saltzman, tell me about yourself.”

“I thought you were telling me about yourself," Josie replies, but then finds herself saying, "what do you want to know?”

“Everything,” Hope says, and Josie finds herself telling Hope everything. Or nearly everything. She hasn’t really shared much with people over the last few years, not with Landon being so Landon and Lizzie all the way across the country, but talking to Hope feels like the easiest thing in the world. Like breathing. Like flying. Like magic. 

Hope closes up the bar at some point, long after the rest of the guests have left (Lizzie sent her a terribly obvious thumbs-up before Penelope pulled her outside), and the smile she sends Josie makes her stomach do summersaults. “Let me walk you home,” she offers, and Josie nods. A quick glance at her phone and Lizzie and Caroline have taken to pestering Josie about the mysterious brunette and the disappearance of Landon. Despite that, though, their texts end with words of love, and Josie smiles before texting them to tell them that she’s on her way home, safe and sound. 

As they leave, Josie’s grateful that she’d always kept her own apartment, despite Landon’s pleas that they move in together. It should feel different, somehow. She should feel different, somehow. She ended a years-long relationship today, and all she feels is relief. And hope. So much _hope_. 

They take the longest way possible through Mystic Falls, and Josie listens to Hope talk about her family (her parents aren’t together, but they’re friends, and she has two aunts and a nephew she absolutely adores and spoils whenever she gets the chance) and Josie thinks that she could listen to Hope talk forever. She’s walked these streets thousands of times before, knows the route by heart, and yet, walking home with Hope is like seeing the town with new eyes. Or maybe it’s just the feeling of weightlessness every time the other girl sends a smile or glance her way. 

It’s close to one in the morning by the time they end up in front of Josie’s apartment door, and she’s seconds away from asking Hope to come in. She bites down on her lip to stifle the words because she broke up with Landon today — just hours ago — and no matter how much her world has shifted, she’s never been that type of girl. 

Hope steals her words away, at any rate, as she steps closer to Josie, placing a lingering kiss on her cheek before she steps away quickly, the briefest of touches at Josie’s hips registering before the sensation is gone. 

“I’ll be seeing you, Josie Saltzman.” 

Josie stops her just before she leaves. “You never told me your last name.”

Hope smiles, the kind of smile Josie doesn’t quite know what to do with. “Hope Mikaelson,” is all she says, before disappearing down the stairs. Her voice lingers in Josie’s mind just like the kiss as Josie unlocks her door and tosses her keys on her coffee table before collapsing onto her couch, knees pulled up to her chest as she wraps her arms around her legs. 

She feels tears in her eyes, cascading down her cheeks silently. Nothing like the gut-wrenching sobs that tore through her body after everything that happened with the Merge. They’re tears of recognition. Because, alone in her apartment, she realizes and feels exactly what has happened tonight, exactly what she has torn asunder. 

She’s just thrown a long, stable relationship out of the window because a pretty girl (and apparently the heiress to the entire Mikaelson legacy, but she’s just going to ignore that for now) had smiled at her and made her feel things she’d long given up. Stupid Lizzie and her stupid perfect girlfriend for walking into town after years and reminding Josie of everything she’d been missing out on. 

A watery chuckle leaves her lips. She feels lighter than she has in a long time, her fingers tracing over where Hope’s lips lingered on her cheek. Somehow, someway, everything will turn out alright.


	5. Chapter 5

Across town, Lizzie closes the door to the bathroom in the hotel room, leaning against it heavily. The drinks had gone to her head and the room was spinning. Or maybe it had just been Penelope in her arms all night long, playing the part of a dutiful girlfriend, even in the face of Damon and all of the other men that had filtered in and out of Caroline and Bonnie’s life. She had handled them all with grace and poise, a touch to Lizzie’s arm to ask a question, a hand at the small of her back that grounded her more than Penelope could ever know. 

But now, back in the safety of their hotel room with a bed and a couch and distance between them, the lie can sit and be idle for the next twelve hours. They were due to meet Caroline at the school the next day for lunch and Lizzie wasn’t sure if she could keep up the mask for any longer — much less the four days until the wedding on Friday. Sighing, she washes her face, letting the water drip down as she stares at herself in the mirror. Her heart’s racing and it isn’t from the drinks. It’s all from Penelope. 

Tearing at her dress and stepping into the shower, Lizzie lets the hot water beat against her back and skin. If she lingers in there and touches herself to the memory of Penelope’s hands at her waist and running along her shoulders, that’s her business and her business only. Something must be written across her face as she steps out of the bathroom in a towel to Penelope standing with her arms crossed, electric toothbrush in her hand like a weapon. 

“Did you fall in, Saltzman?” Ah, so they were back to that. Great. 

“Had to wash your grubby paw marks off of me, Park,” Lizzie replies, bending over her suitcase with her back to Penelope. She gets no response, just the slamming of the bathroom door. Letting out a sigh she didn’t realize she was holding, Lizzie lets the towel drop, reaching for her pajamas. 

As she does, the bathroom door opens and Lizzie hears Penelope stop in her tracks. Lizzie turns, holding a balled-up shirt in her hands, eyes focused on the brunette. Penelope’s eyes slowly move up from the ground, finally landing on Lizzie’s face after what feels like minutes of observation under Penelope’s gaze. 

“Yes?” Lizzie says, tilting her head to one side.

“Toothpaste. I forgot toothpaste,” Penelope stutters out. 

“It’s in your hand, Penelope,” Lizzie replies, crossing her arms over her chest. 

She —sometimes she wonders, just for a second — but Penelope always has whoever she wants throwing themselves at her. She can do a lot better than Lizzie Saltzman. 

“Yeah, face wash, I meant my face wash,” Penelope amends, glancing at the clenched tube of toothpaste in her hand, “so I’m gonna gay — grab — grab that. Right now.” Penelope averts her eyes, ducking to her suitcase to pull out a white bottle before the bathroom door closes behind her. 

Lizzie chuckles as she pulls on her shirt and sleep shorts, diving under the covers of her makeshift bed on the sofa to scroll through the group chat with Mom and Josie. Josie had stayed late to flirt with the bartender and Lizzie was burning with unasked questions because Josie was never one for impulse, never one to burn her own world down at the drop of the hat. Lizzie prided herself in the dramatics of her youth, but perhaps she hadn’t yet grown of such dramatics if bringing home a fake girlfriend was any indication. 

Penelope finishes up in the bathroom a few minutes later and she opens the door, aglow with the light before she shuts it off and the room drenches itself in darkness. Lizzie had always thought of Penelope as graceful, but she trips over her suitcase and nudges the bedside table by the sound of the crashes and muttered curses before finding safety in the bed, sighing loudly. 

“Your sister and the bartender are cute,” Penelope says, breaking the silence. 

“Yeah, it’s a marvel what a relationship that isn’t built on lies looks like,” Lizzie responds dryly. 

“Every relationship is built on lies, even those that begin with some truths. Anyway, a day with your mother tomorrow?” 

It’s Lizzie’s turn to sigh and she nods, even though she knows Penelope can’t see her in the darkness. It’s easier this way, at any rate. Penelope can’t see the way that Lizzie tries to look through her, to get at the nuggets of truths hidden beneath her mask. 

“Yeah, and then I thought, I don’t know. A tour around the town, maybe?” 

“I’d like that,” Penelope replies and there’s no lie in her voice.

Lizzie falls asleep a few moments later, the sound of Penelope’s voice wishing her goodnight floating to her ears.

* * *

She wakes up early the next morning, takes in the sight of a sleeping Penelope for just a second. She looks different and entirely the same and for a moment, Lizzie indulges herself and doesn’t look away. Penelope moves in her sleep and she shakes her head at herself, stretching, because the couch really isn’t all that comfortable. Certainly not as comfortable as being in bed with — 

“You’re staring, Saltzman,” Penelope says, her voice low and raspy and definitely not what Lizzie needs at seven a.m. 

“Am not,” Lizzie replies quickly, far too quickly, throwing the small pillow she had been using over to Penelope on the bed. 

She gets up then, walking into the bathroom with her toothbrush in hand, emerging fifteen minutes later wrapped in a towel. Penelope was still in bed, leaning against the headboard, with a pair of clear-framed plastic glasses on her face and her laptop in her lap, typing away loudly. How she looked — Lizzie couldn’t even begin to — groaning internally, she swallows, ducking her head to dig in her bag and avoiding Penelope’s legs casually crossed on the bedspread, practically begging for Lizzie to run her hands up and down them. 

“They’ve somehow fucked up the Williams case in two days,” she says offhandedly, not looking up at Lizzie. 

Lizzie nods absently, grabbing a pair of jeans and a black camisole, along with her favorite set of matching underwear before marching back in the bathroom. When she comes back out again, her hair as perfect as she could get it (thanks to some amazing haircare spells from Bonnie), Penelope is sipping a tiny cup of espresso by the window, a cup of fruit and a slice of toast sitting on the breakfast cart next to her. 

“Come here and eat something,” Penelope says, and the order settles low in Lizzie’s stomach. She grabs a banana nut muffin from the cart, pouring herself a cup of coffee and sits across from Penelope, who was scrolling through her phone. 

“You clearly adore the room service,” Lizzie remarks offhandedly, trying not to smile. Penelope looks up at her and narrows her eyes before glancing down at her phone, the hint of a smile on her upturned lips. 

“I adore you paying,” Penelope grins. 

“I’m gonna run and go to my mom’s really quickly,” Lizzie tells her after ten minutes of silence, finishing up her coffee and placing the mug on the table. She pulls on a pair of brown leather sandals, grabbing her wallet. “I’ll see you in a bit?” 

“You’re abandoning me already?” Penelope inhales sharply. 

“Please, you and I both know you would rather be alone.” 

Penelope says nothing, again, and Lizzie takes that as her cue to leave. The car service picks her up in front of the hotel and she travels along the tree-lined streets toward Caroline’s house. As she’s getting out of the door, thanking the driver, Bonnie appears on the porch, her arms crossed. 

“I don’t know why you insist on —” 

“It’s my car, Bonnie,” Lizzie says, cutting her off. 

“It’s a relic and definitely not fit for you to be driving your girlfriend around in,” the witch argues, but she holds out the keys nonetheless, inclining her head toward the garage that was located off of the side of the house. Lizzie waits for Bonnie to open the door and then pulls the cover off of the light-blue convertible, which stands sparkling in the sunlight. Despite Bonnie’s protests, she had clearly taken good care of the car. 

“There’s a full tank of gas in there. _Please_ be careful, Lizzie.” Bonnie says from behind her, as Lizzie gets in the driver’s seat, adjusting the rearview and side mirrors. 

“I’m always careful,” she replies, but Bonnie just shakes her head. 

“Your mom would literally kill me if anything happened to you. Or Penelope.” 

“Good to know that she’s already been elevated up to the concern level,” Lizzie says, almost to herself. 

“She’s important to you, so she’s important to us.” 

Lizzie opens her mouth and closes it because — because Penelope was _something_ to her. Although it was increasingly unclear what that something was. 

“I love you too, Bonnie,” Lizzie says, and means it, as Bonnie kisses her cheek before she guns the engine and drives back toward downtown and the hotel. 

“Honey, I’m home,” she sings, slamming the hotel door behind her fifteen minutes later, pulling her sunglasses off and placing them on the top of her head. Penelope pokes her head out of the bathroom door, a tube of lipstick in her hands. 

“Cute, but you smell like exhaust,” Penelope remarks dryly, and Lizzie lifts her arm to sniff her armpit surreptitiously. 

“Do not,” Lizzie shoots back, but Penelope just tosses her a small glass container from the bathroom that Lizzie catches easily. 

“Just put some of my perfume on,” she says quickly, standing on her tiptoes to apply her lipstick, puckering her lips at herself and fluffing her hair in the mirror. She looked good. She always looked good. And it was getting harder for Lizzie to ignore it. 

Not that Penelope had ever made it especially easy. 

Lizzie quickly sprays the perfume on her wrists, dabbing at her neck before she steps into the bathroom, placing the bottle next to Penelope and failing miserably when she tries to avoid the brunette’s eyes in the mirror. 

“I was thinking we could,” Lizzie clears her throat, her mouth tasting like the perfume, like the way Penelope’s skin might taste, her nerves set alight. “We should get my mom flowers before we go. I know a little florist on the way.” 

“You’re kidding me,” Penelope says when they leave the hotel, the convertible parked across the street. She turns sharply to Lizzie, but thankfully, Lizzie can’t see her eyes behind her sunglasses. “Do you even know how to drive, Saltzman?” Lizzie shakes her head, but opens Penelope’s door for her after they’ve safely made it across the street. She’s unsure now, unsure of the merits of this idea. Of showing Penelope around Mystic Falls behind the wheel of her first car. 

It feels almost too personal. Images of Sebastian flash through her mind and she wants to douse her memories in bleach and set fire to them. 

“You should really be asking Josie that,” she replies, closing Penelope’s door and making her way to the driver’s side. “She failed driver’s ed twice.” 

“I guess,” Penelope sighs, pulling on her seatbelt, “that this deathtrap does have its charms.” 

“You’re lovely. Have I mentioned that today?” Lizzie deadpans, turning the key in the ignition. The car roars to life and Lizzie smiles widely. 

She has terrible memories in this car and some great ones, but all of that vanishes into the distance as she shifts gears and starts driving. 

“So you do know how to drive,” Penelope says, three turns later. Her voice sounds a little lower, a little raspier than Lizzie is used to. 

“I wasn’t drag racing up and down Main Street, but it was always nice to be able to get away from everything for a while,” Lizzie admits, glancing over at Penelope briefly. She had the windows rolled down and a classic rock song was playing out of the radio. 

They pull up moments later to a small flower shop, the sign covered in vines. Penelope steps out, nearly stumbling into Lizzie’s arms who holds the door open for her and grabs her waist. She feels Penelope’s skin, right above the waistband of her jeans, where her chambray shirt has ridden up, and she finds her fingers moving of their own volition, rubbing at Penelope’s hips. 

“Do you always feel up your dates?” Penelope jokes, but her voice is low again, the timbre grating against Lizzie’s ears, sending shivers up and down her spine. 

She almost says something stupid. Only you, maybe. Instead, she inhales sharply and reminds herself that she needs to move her hand. “Don’t flatter yourself, Park.”

“Says the girl stroking my hip,” Penelope retorts and Lizzie lets go of her instantly, taking a step backward quickly.

“I’m letting you fall next time,” Lizzie states, and Penelope raises a dramatic hand to her chest. 

“And here I thought you were my knight in a shiny blue convertible.”

Lizzie rolls her eyes and heads inside. If she’s smiling, maybe, she hopes Penelope doesn’t see.

Penelope, of course, has opinions about flowers. Too many opinions. They settle on a bouquet of eucalyptus with peonies and roses and if Lizzie asks for a second bouquet that she gives Penelope as they’re leaving the store, pulling it out from behind her back, no one else needs to know about that. 

She is just being a good fake girlfriend. That’s all. And the sly smile on Penelope’s face was definitely worth it. 

Lizzie parks in the driveway in front of the school, checking her hair in the rearview mirror before she turns to Penelope, suddenly nervous. The brunette must pick up on it because she smiles softly, tilting her head to the side with an uncharacteristic look on her face. 

“Come on, Saltzman. We’ve already done dinner with Bonnie and Caroline. This should be easy,” she reaches across the center console, grabbing Lizzie’s hand in her own. 

Lizzie takes a deep breath, rolling her eyes at herself. “School was always — anyway, you’ll see,” she finishes, biting her lip. 

Lizzie gets out of the car without another word, hesitating only when she sees the massive front doors. She grips the keys in her hands, her knuckles clenched white, taking slow steps. She reminds herself that she left here years ago, that she isn’t that girl anymore, that she had grown up and has a life away from here and that Penelope — 

Penelope’s by her side, the bouquet in one hand and her fingers intertwining with Lizzie’s, guiding her forward. Her touch is grounding and Lizzie feels safe and secure. The memories of the past vanquish as Penelope’s thumb absently runs along the backside of her hand while they walk, passing closed classrooms on their way to Caroline’s office. 

The glamour that Caroline had promised would be over the school seems to be holding. The signs along the bulletin boards say nothing about witches or werewolves or vampires. Rather it’s mundane things you’d expect at a boarding school —talent shows and student groups and even a school play. 

“Please tell me you were in the Drama Club,” Penelope remarks, her eyes shining bright as she turns to Lizzie, pulling at the arm nearest her to get closer to the blonde. 

“I started the Drama Club, thank you. _And_ the Debate Team.” 

“No wonder you’re such a good lawyer. But please tell me Romeo and Juliet wasn’t your idea.” 

“Can I get that first part in writing?” Lizzie asks, eyebrow raised. Because Penelope never — she doesn’t — she had never once complimented Lizzie on anything, let alone her skill in the courtroom, despite their rivalry. Lizzie knows she’s a good lawyer, of course, obviously. But hearing the words from Penelope still sends a shiver down her spine. 

“Absolutely not, dear girlfriend,” Penelope replies, placing a lingering kiss on Lizzie’s cheek as they finally make it to Caroline’s office. 

Lizzie’s skin burns where Penelope’s lips grazed her cheek, but she’s saved from thinking about it even more than she already is when Caroline yells from inside, “Stop loitering in the hallway, you two!” 

Mom’s delighted by the flowers, as Lizzie knew she’d be, and Lizzie tries to pay attention to the conversation, listening to Penelope ask Caroline questions about the school. She seems genuinely interested, and it’s nice to see her like this, out of lawyer mode, just making casual conversation. 

Even if it’s a little distracting in all the ways it shouldn’t be. She’s in a denim shirt and white jeans, her sunglasses perched on the top of her head, and it’s really doing it for Lizzie. Or maybe she just needs to get laid. 

Penelope laughs at something Caroline had said, her eyes glittering with mirth, and yeah, Lizzie definitely needs to get laid.

They have lunch in the teachers’ lounge, because Caroline is apparently ridiculously busy, between running a school and planning a wedding. But she actually admits, this time, that Bonnie cooked everything and she even pretends to eat a salad, even if she’s really just pushed the lettuce around her plate.

Penelope quizzes Caroline and manages to be absolutely polite and charming and utterly inquisitive at the same time. Her Mom, of course, doesn’t hold back, and manages to come up with a non-magical variety of almost everything that ever happened during Lizzie’s time at school.

Everything she was there for, at least. Lizzie bites into one of Bonnie’s delicious sandwiches and tries to swallow down that particular line of thought with it. It doesn’t matter anymore. Mom had been gone for a good reason. She’d made the right choices, she thinks. Maybe, probably. 

It just stings, a little, to see her here, running the school, present to help all of these kids. 

Penelope squeezes her hand under the table, because apparently, that’s how easily she can read Lizzie now. Instead, she changes the topic seamlessly to wedding planning, which is definitely a subject Lizzie more comfortable with. Caroline confesses that Elena and Josie have been planning the bachelorette party together and that she has no idea what’s in store for them. 

Penelope regales them both with stories from her friend’s bachelorette party in Vegas the year before that involved a tiger, a gymnast, and far too many togas and Lizzie feels jealousy coursing through her veins, especially when Penelope makes the comment under her breath that she wasn’t the only one who got lucky at the blackjack table, but Penelope just squeezes her hand, her palm soft and sure against Lizzie’s. 

Josie storms in when they’re almost done as Lizzie’s just about to bite into one of Bonnie’s delicious apple tarts. 

“Hi, Mom, hi, Penelope. Lizzie, come with me.”

“Rude,” Lizzie says, but she gets up quickly, dropping a swift kiss to Penelope’s cheek that makes her heart race. She’s not sure why she did that. Well, of course, she’s sure why she did that. But she isn’t sure why she had to do that _now_. 

“I was about to have dessert, Josette,” Lizzie complains, as Josie shuts the door of the nearest empty classroom behind them with a bang. 

She holds her phone out — like a goddamn weapon. “What do I text back?”

Lizzie looks at the screen. _Can I see you tonight?_ From Hope. “This is a yes or no question. You interrupted my lunch with my girlfriend and Mom for this?”

“What do I say to her?” Josie repeats, ignoring Lizzie’s comment. Lizzie rolls her eyes, missing the warmth from Penelope’s hand on her thigh. 

“Well, do you want to see her again?”

“Yes. Maybe. Yes.” God, she was infuriating

“Then tell her that, but maybe just stick to the one yes, though. You did just meet her.”

“So, you think this is a good idea?”

“It’s a better idea than Landon, that’s for sure.”

“Lizzie,” Josie prompts, jaw clenched. 

Lizzie sighs, leaning against one of the desks, tapping her foot on the ground. “I’ve been telling you to break up with that flying monkey for the last five years and one glance at the hot bartender and you actually do it.” That had surprised Lizzie. Spontaneity was her character trait, damnit. 

“So, you think I should say yes. Even if it’s incredibly tacky to go out with someone else the day after I broke up with Landon.”

Fuck if Lizzie knows. Her most successful relationship ever seems to be fake-dating her colleague. Whatever. “Yes. Go.” One of them deserves to be happy. 

Josie squeals, before hurriedly typing out yes. Lizzie shakes her head, even if she’s smiling. “Alright. Now, that’s settled. I’m going to go back and rescue my girlfriend before Mom goes full-on Spanish Inquisition on the poor girl.” 

“Penelope can hold her own,” Josie assures her. She practically skips away from Lizzie down the hallway. 

Lizzie lingers by the door to the teacher’s lounge for a second, observing through the small window in the door. Penelope looks decidedly uncomfortable, and Lizzie actually feels a little bit bad, because her Mom’s a tough nut to crack and Penelope isn’t even her girlfriend and definitely didn’t sign up for being interrogated during lunch. 

That is until she hears what Mom is _actually_ saying. “I know she’s a grown woman and all the way on the other side of the country, but mothers worry. It’s what we do. And after everything, it’s just wonderful to see Lizzie with someone who adores her the way you do.”

She needs to stop this right now, Lizzie decides, opening the door, even as her mother continues. “I can honestly say I’ve never seen her this happy.”

“It took you decades to get the girl, are you sure you should be giving love advice?”

Caroline laughs, getting to her feet. Her mother’s never been affected by Lizzie’s snark — it’s one of Lizzie’s favorite things about her. “Just let me mom for five minutes.” 

Lizzie rolls her eyes, but she might be smiling. 

“I have to get back to the pile of paperwork on my desk,” Caroline says, “thank you for a lovely lunch, you two. Lizzie, you should give Penelope a tour of the school since you’re already here.”

“Yeah, Lizzie, you should give me a tour of the school,” Penelope echoes, but she’s smiling as well and turns to Caroline. “Thank you for lunch, Caroline. I’ll have to steal the salad recipe from Bonnie when I see her next.” 

“Don’t let this one go,” her mom counsels her on the way out of the lounge, and Lizzie inhales sharply. She can’t help it. Sometimes, all of this feels all too real. 

Sometimes, far too often lately, Lizzie wishes it was. 

Lizzie shows her the dining hall, the old dormitory that was always her sanctuary with Josie, and then takes her out to the grounds. They skirt the edge of the lake, the trees providing a green canopy to shade them from the sun, and when they finally come upon the Old Mill, Lizzie’s heart is hammering in her chest. 

“I think I would have been lucky to have gone to a school like this,” Penelope comments, spinning around one of the wooden columns. 

“You would have been the popular girl, no doubt. A suit of armor wrapped around you made up of designer labels,” Lizzie observes, biting her lip. 

“And who would you have been?” 

“I —” Lizzie falters, her voice catching. _I was broken then, so broken. Torn to pieces by my mom and my dad and the secrets they kept from us. I was_ — _I am damaged goods. I’m no one special. I’m not my past._

She can’t say all that. No matter how tempted she is. No matter how much she wants to let her guard down and tell Penelope everything. She wants to tell Penelope about magic and the Merge, about loss and about heartbreak. She wants to tell her everything. But she can’t.

She would scare Penelope off. She would scare anyone off. 

So, she settles for something close to the truth. As close as she can get, without admitting her entire sordid history. “It wasn’t easy with Josie sometimes. We’re so different and people have a habit of comparing us even when they shouldn’t. Everyone knew who I was. I’m not sure it was always for the right reasons.” 

“You’re too hard on yourself, Lizzie,” comes Penelope’s voice next to her, spinning around on the dusty old floors, kicking up flecks of dirt that dance in the light around her. “Can’t you even see —” Penelope stops herself, turning away quickly. “You mean a lot to everyone here.” She says it too fast, like she hadn’t meant to say it in the first place. Like she hadn’t wanted it to escape her lips. 

The laugh that escapes Lizzie’s mouth is far too cynical, far too biting. “Anyway,” she deflects, holding a hand out instinctively that Penelope takes before Lizzie can second-guess herself. Lizzie runs her fingers along Penelope’s knuckles, before she begins pulling the brunette away from the crumbling structure. Before it crashes down all around them, like the lies she keeps piling on. 

She’s actually surprised the Old Mill was still standing. It probably should have been condemned ages ago. “I need coffee. Do you need coffee?” 

“I thought you’d never ask. Can we get some decent espresso in this town?” 

“Mmm, I know just the place.” 

They pull up to Steam & Sugar, Mystic Falls’ attempt at millennial branding that actually meant good coffee and desserts and Penelope’s telling her all about the summer she spent in Switzerland studying abroad and the terrible food poisoning she got from some suspicious fondue when she pulls open the door, the bell tinkling loudly to signal their arrival. 

A cute older woman behind the counter says a quick hello but its not until Lizzie’s eyes have adjusted from the sun that she looks around and sees — 

“Elizabeth.” 

“Dad.” 

Shit. 

“I wasn’t — I wasn’t sure that I was going to see you.” Alaric gets up from the small table that he was seated at, his hand on the back of his neck. Lizzie notices that he’s still sporting the beard, even if it’s tinged with more grey now. Penelope grabs Lizzie’s hand, an anchor, a lifeline when she’s sure she could float away or burst into flames under her father’s gaze. “Is this — sorry, your mom told me you were bringing someone, but —” 

“I’m Penelope. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Saltzman.” 

Alaric walks slowly toward them and Lizzie stays rooted to the spot, but he shakes hands with Penelope, quickly shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. Lizzie isn’t sure she can move, like a deer in the headlights, even as her body screams for her to go, to flee, to fly back to California and out of this fucking coffee shop that's suffocating and a thousand degrees too warm. 

“Lizzie, can we talk? I wanted to — after everything —” 

“Dad, I really don’t think —” Lizzie glances over at Penelope, who squeezes her hand, but lets go of it, turning to the counter and the woman watching the exchange. She orders, her voice resonating over the static in Lizzie’s mind because — well, seeing her dad was the last thing she expected when she woke up this morning. 

“Please, Lizzie. I know that the Me—”

“Really, Dad. It’s — that was a long time ago.” Lizzie glances over at Penelope who pulls out a credit card with a smile. 

Alaric sighs, running his hand through his hair in a move that Lizzie had definitely picked up on as one of his tells when he was uncomfortable. She’d honestly rather be anywhere but there too. Can someone will spontaneous combustion? 

“You look happy, Lizzie. And so grown up,” he settles on, eyes moving to Penelope. He doesn’t — it’s so not his place to say these things. Ever. He gave up that right when he kept the most important things about her, about her family, a secret and called it love. 

“So everyone keeps saying,” Lizzie replies automatically, taking the to-go cup of coffee wordlessly from Penelope, who wraps her hand around Lizzie’s arm, curling into the blonde. 

She’s shaking, seconds away from losing control and demolishing the entire building when Penelope’s voice pierces through the fog. “You’ll have to excuse us, Dr. Saltzman — Lizzie promised me a tour of the town before dinner, but it’s been an absolute pleasure meeting you.”

All she’s aware of is Penelope wrapped around her, firm and constant, grounding her and leading her out the front door of the cafe. “Breathe,” Penelope instructs, and Lizzie isn’t sure how many steps she’s taken, but she breathes deeply and feels the air streaming through her lungs. 

Penelope maneuvers her down the street back to where they’re parked, and Lizzie knows that she should somehow, magically, pull herself together, because the broken pieces she’s shattering into are sure to scare Penelope right out of town. 

But somehow Alaric has managed to make everything about home come crashing back to the surface and out of the messy boxes she had pushed everything in. Her mind’s flooded with images of Sebastian, Kai, the Merge, Josie, spiraling, and then Bonnie and Caroline, appearing just in time to save them. She attempts to breathe again, but her chest is tight, and her throat feels like it’s coated with glass and she can’t take a deep breath, darkness prickling at the edges of her vision. 

“Lizzie, Lizzie. Look at me.” Warm hands touch her face and her vision swims in double. “Will you give me your keys if I promise not to crash?” Penelope says. Her voice sounds so gentle, filled with warmth and understanding that Lizzie wants to just fall and fall and let Penelope catch her. She fishes for her keys, more muscle memory than anything else, handing them over. 

Penelope opens the passenger door for Lizzie and she steps inside, collapsing into the front seat. Penelope starts the car and Lizzie falls into the comforting roar of the engine and the lull of Penelope’s voice —“Good thing I was actually paying attention to where you were driving before, even if you were a bit distracting — Will you just relax, Saltzman? It’s fine to let other people take care of you once every decade or so —” (Lizzie had been about to offer to drive, how had Penelope even known?)

Penelope pulls up in front of the hotel, greeting the valet by name and tossing him the keys, because of course, she knows everything about everyone here after two days in Mystic Falls, before leading Lizzie toward the bar, her arm at her lower back. 

“Alright, babe. I know what you need,” she steers Lizzie toward the stools in front of the bar, tossing her sunglasses on top of her head. “Hey there, can we get two whiskeys neat, please?” She smiles at the bartender, flashing her teeth and biting her lip. 

They’re the only people in the bar because it's two in the afternoon and it definitely wasn’t a respectable time for drinking, but Lizzie takes the tumbler of the amber liquid when it’s placed in front of her, her hands shaking as she takes a drink. 

“So that was your Dad then,” Penelope says, and Lizzie blinks at her. The whiskey is warm in her throat, but not as warm as Penelope’s hand at her lower back just moments before. Even now, she’s seated at the bar, but her whole body is facing Lizzie and their legs are close enough to touch, thigh against thigh. 

“I — yeah, that was him. Sorry, he just —” Lizzie can’t even finish her sentence. She can’t say that she froze. That everything that she had buried for years had come bursting to the surface after a few minutes with her dad. Maybe she did have daddy issues. 

“Lizzie,” Penelope reaches over, her hand finding Lizzie’s again and Lizzie swears she will never get over the feeling of Penelope’s skin against hers. “You don’t have to apologize for your family. Ever.” 

She’s caught glimpses of this Penelope during the flight and during their stay here, caring and understanding, and it serves to unravel her every time. 

Her eyes must be sparkling as she quickly blinks, a watery laugh ringing through her ears. “I’ve ruined our day,” she observes and Penelope raises an eyebrow, turning back to the bar but keeping Lizzie’s legs bracketed with her own. 

“I’ve had worse days. And you’re not terrible company. If anyone asks, I’ll deny it until my last breath, but just so you know.” 

“You’re not so terrible yourself, Park.”

“Can I get that in writing?”

Lizzie shakes her head, as the bartender, flagged down again by Penelope, places another round of drinks in front of them, along with menus. “Never.”

She wishes the bloom of _something_ in her chest would just go away, but it’s growing, more and more each day that she spends with Penelope by her side. And as she clinks her tumbler of whiskey with Penelope’s, a smile on her face, she knows she can’t ever return to what they used to be. 

She isn’t sure that she wants to anymore.

She isn’t sure what she wants at all, anymore. 

All she knows is that sitting here, at this moment, that home doesn’t feel so cold and distant anymore, that she feels a little less broken, a little less wrecked with Penelope around. And she likes that feeling. 

Even though she knows it’s temporary.


	6. Chapter 6

This isn't what Lizzie imagined falling into bed with Penelope Park would be like. Not that she imagined falling into bed with Penelope Park. Much. Often. Frequently. 

Okay, maybe she indulged sometimes. Once or twice or ten times. But only in a fleeting way that definitely doesn’t count and usually only after a few drinks. Or a late night at the office where she’s hunched over papers and Penelope is looking stupidly beautiful at ten p.m. Or even last night. But that was all Penelope’s fault because she was gorgeous in that dumb black dress that Lizzie had wanted to tear off of her. 

But she definitely didn’t imagine just collapsing fully clothed onto the bed, the room service menu and the opened bottle of champagne between them, ice bucket and all. 

“We need ice cream,” Penelope decides. “And pizza.” She’s drunk. She has to be. There’s no way that Penelope five-star restaurant Park would ever go for pizza and ice cream. 

“They don't have pizza.”

Penelope shakes her head, humming in disapproval. “Pick a better hotel next time.”

“Next time? Are you planning to make this a regular thing, Park?”

“Your family adores me, clearly. How do you feel about burgers?” Penelope scans the menu with an appraising eye, sucking in her lower lip. It’s cute. “Nevermind, we definitely need burgers. Anyway, your mom would never handle the breakup very well. She’s already ready to adopt me. Besides, where are you going to find a replacement? I’ve never seen you with anyone.” She pauses, turning her gaze to Lizzie who wishes yet again it didn’t make her heart skip a beat each time she met Penelope’s eyes. “God knows the last time you’ve been on a date. I’m your only hope.”

“We can’t all have your harem of suitors hanging off of you every time you go out.” She deflects poorly, but Penelope just laughs. 

She doesn’t — she only — she hasn’t talked about this in years, but Penelope makes everything feel so fucking easy. “I was seventeen. He thought I was weak and he tried to turn me into someone I wasn’t, someone I never wanted to be, and he died in a car crash that almost killed me.”

She ignores the blood. Ignores the vampires and the mythology and the lore that would have Penelope screaming and heading for the hills. So she chalks it up to toxic masculinity and gaslighting and really, it’s not that far off the mark.

Penelope looks up. “Jesus, Lizzie. That’s not just — that fucking sucks.” She puts the menu down, reaching for the hotel phone and when she looks up, she’s not looking at Lizzie any differently. Not like she’s broken, not like she’s weak. She puts the phone back down, deciding against it. 

“Since we’re sharing,” Penelope begins, drinking the champagne straight out of the bottle before passing it to Lizzie. The bottle is warm where Penelope was holding it and Lizzie tries not to think about her lips on the same spot that Penelope just drank from. 

“I dated a girl once. It was great for about six months and then — then it just became pretty clear that I wasn’t a priority. Not that I’m saying I should be a priority. Every person deserves independence and to be whoever they’re meant to be, but,” Penelope shrugs, her eyes on the ceiling. “I just wanted — I don’t know what I wanted. To come first maybe? Our work sucks and it takes up all of our time and it will inevitably cause late nights and missed meals, but it’s nice to know where you fit. Anyway,” Penelope snatches the champagne back from Lizzie right as she puts the bottle to her lips. “Let’s order everything.” 

“Let’s not order everything. I have to fit into a dress in a few days.”

“You’re gorgeous. You’ll be fine. Trust me.” 

They order nearly everything, which Lizzie thinks is a fair compromise and probably a good idea. She tries not to think too much about how she could get used to this, demolishing burgers and ice cream with Penelope Park while they talk about more silly, irrelevant things than families and heartbreak. They, of course, talk about work and their favorite partners and paralegals and the people that are definitely guilty and those that were probably going to get off, despite the huge retainers that their firm charged for their services. 

Lizzie falls asleep next to Penelope, her head resting on her shoulder. They’re still in their clothes from the day and when Lizzie wakes up in the middle of the night, she can’t remember anything in the haze of the champagne apart from the fact that Penelope was warm next to her, small spurts of breath hitting Lizzie’s cheek as she inhales and exhales. Lizzie watches her, the moonlight a sliver in the room, bright enough to illuminate Penelope’s face for some silent exploration.

She knows she’s being creepy, but she can’t help the absolute ache of want that wells up inside of her watching Penelope. It’s hopeless and ill-advised and everything could crash and burn but Lizzie wants to be reckless, oh so reckless, even for just a moment. She stops herself before she reaches out to touch Penelope’s cheek because while she knows she’s an absolute freak and pining for a girl who only wants a promotion, non-consensual touching was definitely a no-no. 

Grabbing a blanket that had been kicked to the ground, Lizzie gets up and covers Penelope, depositing a water bottle and pain medicine next to her on the bedside table before she grabs a tank top and shorts and escapes to the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth. Penelope’s still asleep when she emerges a few minutes later, even if her hand is outstretched toward where Lizzie had lain previously. She won’t — she can’t, for her own sanity and fragile sense of self-control, read into that at all. 

She’s about to lay down on the couch when Penelope’s voice stops her, raspy and wrapped in tiredness and totally breaking through whatever walls Lizzie has left when it comes to Penelope. 

“Just come back to bed. You don’t need to be hungover and in pain tomorrow.” She hadn’t even mentioned to Penelope that the couch isn’t terribly comfortable. There’d been no need to. Penelope’s doing her a favor and she should get the bed. It’s only common decency. 

Standing in the middle of the room, Lizzie hesitates. “Don’t make me wake up and pull you into bed,” Penelope mutters and Lizzie chuckles to herself and walks over, climbing back into bed, even if she knows better. 

Because it's been years since she shared a bed with someone that isn’t Josie. The occasional bar hookup had certainly never ended with sleepovers and now she’s here, laying on her side, as Penelope snakes her arm over Lizzie’s hip, settling on her stomach, her heartbeat at Lizzie’s back and her lips and breath warm on Lizzie’s neck. 

Yeah, she can totally, _totally_ handle this. Maybe. Probably. 

She wakes to the sound of Penelope’s alarm and their positions are reversed. Her head is buried in Penelope’s neck and her arms are around Penelope’s stomach and underneath her shirt. Penelope seems to have taken her jeans off in the night, somehow, because Lizzie can feel taut muscles and a lace waistband as her hands move lower before she fully recognizes exactly what she’s doing, who she’s doing it to, and all the ways in which non-consensual groping are absolutely against the rules that she made for herself at three in the morning. Even if Penelope seemed to sink into her embrace.

Inhaling sharply, Lizzie disentangles herself as quickly as she can, which results in her falling off of the bed and pulling the comforter along with her. 

“Relax, Lizzie,” Penelope groans, turning off the ear-splitting noise of her alarm. “Your secret’s safe with me that you’re a cuddler. It’s too early for some gay panic, anyway,” Penelope says, sitting up in bed and stretching her arms toward the ceiling. She looks way too good for the morning. Especially after having slept in her clothes and not brushed her teeth or washed her face. It wasn’t fair. “We haven’t even had coffee yet.”

“I wasn’t — I just,” Lizzie groans, rolling her eyes at herself in hopes that Penelope can’t see the blush on her cheeks. 

“I’m attractive. You’re attractive. These things happen when you’re close to someone. Like Stockholm Syndrome —” 

“On that note, I’m gonna go shower and wash you off of me.” 

When Lizzie emerges from the bathroom, there’s coffee and a croissant and fruit waiting for her and Penelope is again typing away on her laptop, her hair in a messy bun and glasses on her face. Lizzie feels like she got hit by a train and Penelope seems to be doing just fine, which definitely isn’t fair, but at least she has caffeine and some food to help her get through the morning. 

Penelope showers and dresses and Lizzie grabs the car from valet without a word to Penelope about where they were going. At least the brunette had dressed for the day — she looked absolutely gorgeous in a white lace tank top and rust-red maxi skirt. Lizzie feels her mouth go dry when Penelope walks out of the bathroom, which earns an eye roll from Penelope who had definitely caught her staring. But Lizzie certainly doesn’t miss the look that Penelope gives her own outfit - a pair of denim shorts and a white button up. 

Tuesday seems intent on making up for all of Monday’s shortcomings. She shows Penelope all the parts of town she actually likes and with the sun shining brightly over Mystic Falls, yesterday’s shadows seem to have blown away. They wander over to the farmer’s market and Penelope absolutely delights in trying and buying what Lizzie is sure are about seventeen different kinds of fruits. 

“Is this how you spend your free time?” she asks, watching Penelope gush over raspberries. 

“You spend your free time torturing interns with extra assignments, Saltzman, don’t judge.” There’s no malice in Penelope’s voice. It’s almost as if yesterday has propelled them from colleagues and rivals closer to friends territory. 

Of course, friends should probably spend a little less time looking at the way Penelope’s lips curve around the berry as she plops it into her mouth. “Come here and try this, Lizzie, it’s amazing.”

Apparently, she has a hard time saying no to Penelope these days. 

They have lunch outside, eating sandwiches on the benches of the town square and Penelope tells her about all the L.A. farmer’s markets and artisanal shops she will be taking Lizzie to when they get back. “Not optional, you owe me a favor,” she informs Lizzie. “And I can’t let you run around eating cold takeout. It’s just not right.”

Lizzie nods slowly, hiding the grin that threatens to overtake her face. 

Penelope spends twenty minutes after lunch angrily ranting into her phone, because apparently someone forgot to hand in a deposition on time. Lizzie indulges her, listening to the low timbre of Penelope’s voice and watching her hands fly through the air as she gestures before she figures out that if Penelope’s handling a work crisis, she might want to check her own email, even if she’s drawn to the way Penelope is moving. 

She’s pacing, a hand at her waist and occasionally going through her hair and Lizzie realizes this is the exact same Penelope that she would watch in the office, standing the same way at her desk, pacing back and forth in stilettos and a pencil skirt. 

Lizzie swallows deeply. She’s so fucked. 

“That place would collapse without us,” Penelope grins half an hour later, falling into her chair and taking a long sip of her lemonade, biting on the straw with a smirk. Lizzie looks up from her phone and realizes that she hadn’t even clicked on her email app. She had been too busy watching Penelope verbally demolish whoever she had been on the phone with. 

“So humble,” Lizzie says quickly, her mind struggling to catch up to the conversation. “Come on, we agreed to meet Josie for coffee.”

Josie shows up twenty minutes late and spends almost all of her time giggling at her phone. Lizzie eats carrot cake and doesn’t comment, kicking Penelope’s foot under the table to raise her eyebrows. She’s happy for her sister, truly, but this kind of whirlwind romance can easily go up in flames. On the other hand, Lizzie isn’t in much of a position to judge anyone’s feelings, considering the fact that she keeps getting distracted by Penelope’s presence. 

Who knows, maybe Josie can figure it all out. Lizzie certainly can’t. 

And anyway, she only has to make it through a few more days. Then Penelope will go back to being just her colleague and everything will be fine and these stupid fucking feelings will just disappear. 

“So have you kissed her yet?” Penelope asks, arm around the back of Lizzie’s chair. 

“Not yet.” 

“What are you waiting for, baby Saltzman?” 

“I met her two days ago. Her consent would be a great start.” 

“Both of you are overly concerned about consent,” Penelope says absently, tracing lines up and down Lizzie’s shoulders and over her neck that nearly have the blonde moaning at the touch. “Which is cute and the right attitude, but it’s also a sign of cowardice. Kiss the girl, Josie. Tell me something, does she act like she wants to kiss you?” Lizzie nearly snorts into her iced latte. 

“I mean, I guess?” Josie says slowly, her brows furrowed in thought. “We had a moment after the cocktail party. She kissed my cheek.” 

“A moment. You both suck at romance. Sorry, babe,” Penelope says quickly, glancing over at Lizzie but she just smiles. Because Lizzie did suck at romance. 

“I’m trying to figure out if you caught her ever looking at you, just silently observing or even pleading for you to take that chance? You have to know how to read a girl.” Lizzie swallows deeply, her palms sweaty as Penelope’s index finger continues its trail down the side of her neck and across her shoulder blades. 

This conversation was dangerous, bordering on torture, and all she can focus on is Penelope’s hand across her back. She decides to fight fire with fire and moves her hand to Penelope’s thigh, touching the soft material of her skirt. 

“You know what I mean,” Penelope continues, “I’m talking about when your eyes meet and you just — you know that whatever else happens, you have got to kiss her in that moment. You have to leap.” 

“Do people actually feel like that?” Josie asks, her voice rising. Lizzie snaps back to reality, lost in Penelope’s words but the brunette just laughs and grins at her out of the corner of Lizzie’s eye. 

“I do. I did, before I finally stopped waiting for your sister and took matters into my own hands.”

Right, the fake story they had made up. 

The story Lizzie really should be remembering. 

Josie, apparently, is interested. Very interested.“You know, Lizzie never told me how exactly the two of you got together.”

Penelope, of course, remembers the exact story she came up with and takes great delight in telling it. As she talks, Lizzie wonders, just for a moment, what it would be like if it were real. What it would be like to be sitting here and actually have Penelope Park in love with her. 

Penelope glances over at her often as she’s telling the story, and Lizzie is just sitting, a smile on her face as her hand moves up and down Penelope’s thigh. At one point Penelope grabs Lizzie’s hand with her own, lacing their fingers together and bringing their clasped hands up to her lips to kiss. 

“I decided while Lizzie was changing that I had to — I couldn’t just let the moment pass. So, even though her hair was still wet from the rain and she was dressed in leggings and an old ratty sweater, she was still the most beautiful girl I had ever seen.” 

“Okay,” Josie says, rolling her eyes, “that’s a perfectly fine story, but the way Lizzie tells it, you hated each other.” 

“Mmm, there’s a fine line between like and loathe,” Lizzie pipes up, her mouth dry and her heart racing. She figured she had to contribute at least something to this lie. “There was always something so — so infuriating about her,” she said, directing her words to Penelope, not Josie. “Even when we were both just starting out.” She clenches Penelope’s hand in hers and doesn’t miss the way Penelope inhales sharply at Lizzie’s words. “I called Jo a lot about you at the beginning. Mostly to complain.” 

“And then all of a sudden, you’re together,” Josie interjects and Lizzie huffs out an annoyed breath of air. 

“Sometimes it happens quickly, and you just know, Josette. Anyway, you should kiss Hope. Your phone hasn’t stopped blowing up since you’ve been here. It’s obvious she’s into you.” 

“I don’t know.” 

“You do. Or else you wouldn’t have dropped the butler.” 

They say their goodbyes to Josie who leaves Lizzie in charge of telling Bonnie and Caroline that she couldn’t make it over to their place for dinner. Something about a date with Hope. 

Everything feels lighter today and this whole thing feels less and less of a lie with Penelope even as Caroline pulls them inside and tells them to try the hummus that Bonnie has made. She had missed spending time with her Mom, with Josie, and this trip back has been a reminder of her family. The good parts, at least and —

“Your dad said he saw you,” Caroline says after Lizzie has already finished a glass of wine. Lizzie shoves the empty glass away and reaches for Penelope’s water before responding. 

“Since when do you talk to Dad?” she asks sharply, staring daggers at her mother. Who stares right back. Lizzie had never backed away from a challenge with Caroline, not since she was nineteen years old, and she wasn’t about to now. Technically, she was older than Caroline, but that was beside the point. 

“Elizabeth, he’s just —” 

“He isn’t anything, Mom! He doesn’t have a right to be _anything_!” 

“He’s your father. He’s —” 

“Care,” Bonnie’s voice interrupts them, quiet and soft. “This is up to Lizzie.”

Lizzie watches her mom stare at Bonnie. “I know that. I’m just saying that it’s been years. And we both made mistakes.”

“You apologized,” Lizzie points out, grabbing her wineglass and pouring herself another generous glass. She was going to have to give Penelope the keys again. “All he ever did was tell us why he made the right choice and how it somehow worked out wrong.”

“We had no way of knowing that that madman would try to kill you and Josie!” Caroline exclaims. 

“Mom!” Lizzie yells, not wanting to look over to see the reaction on Penelope’s face. “Can we just - can we not?” 

“So, I’m assuming you skimmed over the details of this particular story,” Penelope snarks, and when Lizzie looks up to meet her gaze, she looks calmer than expected. 

Bonnie gets to her feet quickly while Caroline takes a long sip of her wine. Or what looks like wine. “I’m going to need some help in the kitchen. Care?”

Her Mom mouths “sorry” at her before Bonnie ushers her out and then it’s just her and Penelope and the piles of lies in front of them. Penelope reaches over, squeezing Lizzie’s hand. “You don’t owe me your life story, Lizzie.”

“I know, but I owe you more than what I’ve told you before. My family is — we’re —” Lizzie’s lips wrap around the word _supernatural_ , but no, that wouldn’t work. _Magical_ doesn’t feel right either. 

“They love you,” Penelope says quickly, still holding Lizzie’s hand. “At least, Bonnie and Caroline and Josie do and that’s what matters, right? You don’t have to have a relationship with your dad if you don’t want to. My parents are both lawyers, like I told you,” Penelope begins, tracing lines over Lizzie’s hand and calming her down more than she could ever know

Penelope looks away then, hanging her head, and curtains of hair fall between them before Penelope glances back at Lizzie. 

“But they’re, they’ve never been the warmest of people. Do they love me? Maybe. Do they love the fact that I’ve followed in their footsteps? Absolutely. And that’s what matters to them. We all have family drama, Lizzie. You don’t have the monopoly on that. Although your family drama sounds a bit more deadly and illegal than mine. But hey,” Penelope’s free hand comes up to Lizzie’s chin and it’s warm and it sends shivers through Lizzie’s body. 

“You aren’t your family. You aren’t your past. You have control over your future and your present and who’s in it.” Penelope’s eyes gaze deeply into hers and Lizzie wishes she could read minds, wishes she could remember the spell from Bonnie’s grimoire to do just that, but maybe some things are better left unknown. 

“Anyway, give me the keys. You’ve had far too much to drink and we both know you’re a lightweight.” 

Lizzie laughs. Penelope has this stupid, ridiculous way of making her feel at ease that she’s getting far too used to. 

She fishes for her keys and tosses them towards Penelope, who catches elegantly. “Here, chauffeur lady.”

By the time Bonnie and Caroline return, laden with apologetic glances and trays of food, she feels a lot better. The rest of the night passes on a lighter note, discussion of tomorrow’s bachelorette party, apparently jointly planned by Elena and Josie. 

“And the bar is called The Booby Trap?” Lizzie asks when they’re clearing the dishes in the kitchen, standing before the dishwasher as Penelope hands her rinsed-off dishes to place inside. 

“Grow up, Lizzie,” her mom teases. “We’re only starting there. We’re ending the night at Blade’s.” 

“Blade’s sounds worse than The Booby Trap,” Lizzie deadpans. 

“Blade’s has a dancefloor,” Caroline begins and Bonnie lets out a bark of laughter. “And I love dancing. It’s my bachelorette party, not yours, Elizabeth. Have a little fun.” 

“Yeah, Elizabeth,” Penelope says, and the low, teasing tone of her voice absolutely does not do things to Lizzie, at all. “Have a little fun.”

“You’re both bad influences. And you’re supposed to be the one to keep her in line,” Lizzie says, glancing at Bonnie. 

“She can do what she wants. She’s a grown woman and not yet my wife. And,” Bonnie pauses, putting an arm around Caroline, “I love to dance too.” 

“A match made in hell then.” 

“Penelope, please take your darling girlfriend home and make sure she gets lots of sleep before tomorrow night,” Caroline teases and Lizzie just groans but Penelope mirrors Bonnie’s move to Lizzie and her hand is suddenly at Lizzie’s waist and she tries and fails not to sink into the embrace. 

“Yes, darling girlfriend, shall we?” 

They make it back home in one piece (Penelope’s a better driver than Lizzie would ever give her credit for) and Penelope grabs Lizzie’s hand as they’re walking through the lobby, swinging their arms in the air. Lizzie bites back a smile as she pushes on the button for the elevator, but Penelope doesn’t drop her hand until they’re back inside the hotel room. 

In seconds, it’s awkward again. Or maybe that’s just Lizzie.

She busies herself with grabbing a tank top and a pair of sweatpants, then brushes her teeth and washes her face after Penelope, tossing her toothpaste back in her luggage. She glances at the couch and then at Penelope, who’s watching her from the bed, an eyebrow raised. 

“Just come to the bed, Saltzman, now that I already know about your secret cuddling ways.”

“Are you —” 

“Stop second-guessing everything. It’s the lawyer in you, I know, but not everything needs to be analyzed to death,” Penelope groans from the darkness. Lizzie laughs before she makes her way back to the bed, pulling the covers back. Penelope, thank god, was actually dressed in a silk sleeping combo tonight and Lizzie prays silently that she keeps her hands to herself. 

Which is going to prove harder than expected, because Penelope just curls into her, warm and soft, and mutters something that sounds like “good night, Lizzie,” before drifting straight off to sleep. Lizzie’s just on the right side of drunk to not have the sense to move away.

Instead, she sleeps better than she has in weeks, months, years, with Penelope in her arms. 

**Author's Note:**

> pizzie nation, how we feeling?


End file.
